


A Tender Brevity

by Hyperionova



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Forbidden Love, M/M, Rent Boy, Romance, Tragedy, kinda slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-24 00:16:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20017126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyperionova/pseuds/Hyperionova
Summary: The man with the lute, the penniless musician, has something to say to the beautiful boy he has been seeing by the bagnio's window every morning and evening for the past few years.Jongin does not want to hear it.





	A Tender Brevity

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: The story contains prostitution, degradation of sex workers and poor/homeless people (though I do not condone it in any sort of way!), slight mentions of dub-con in the world of prostitution, and a lot of angst. Read at your own discretion.  
> I'm sorry if this story makes you cry!  
> Written for [@corgi56](https://twitter.com/corgi56)

# Prologue

The barren trees, whose boughs stretched out like the limbs of an old witch, longed for the gentle touch of the morning sun, to thaw the icicles hanging off them, as daybreak was nigh upon all. They remained still and steady in the seasonal gusts that took no pity on the men, women and mongrels with no place to call home but the dank corners of the street. Winter had never been harsher. It was as though all warmth had forsaken the wretched world altogether, leaving nothing but cold and grey to haunt the place. The kindness of summer only lingered in their memories now.

It was good for business, though.

The cold outside meant more desperate men who would come seeking the heat of the indoors, the fireplace, and the ripe body of twenty-year-olds.

The bagnio was more crowded than ever, swarming with men with fat bellies and fat coin purses, whose wives were nowhere to be seen. Good for business.

Watching a heavy globule of snow flit its way down, he raised a hand to the window. It was cold against his palm when he splayed his numb fingers over the glass. His eyes roved about the street down below from where he stood inside the bagnio. The roads were covered in a thin blanket of snow. The trees on the sidewalk as sturdy as dancers holding their poses in a play.

This could be his last winter.

He took notice of everything very keenly. The shop-boy shooed a dog out of his bread shop. A well-swaddled man kicked a little girl in rags away when she begged him to spare her a coin. An indignant customer spewed profanities at the barber who had cut his all of his hair off. A john picked up a streetwalker from the alley. Nothing out of the ordinary.

And neither was the man, perched on the empty beer cask by the sidewalk, who was playing the old, worn lute, whose strings looked like they might snap off at any moment.

He was always there. Across the street. On the cask, with the lute in his hands, his fingers gently plucking the strings. Even from inside the bagnio, one could hear the soft melody that was played on the lute. Every morning and evening, he was there. Though he clearly knew how to play the lute, he looked like no bard. When the man stood, he was almost as tall as the tree he always sat under during the summer days. He had big, broad shoulders, and a face full of beard. His dark hair was a thick mane. He had a nice smile, too. He’d smile every time a passer-by would toss a coin to the ground for him.

And then he’d smile when he looked up at the same bagnio window every so often.

“Jongin,” someone called as the door swung open.

Tearing his gaze away from the street musician, Jongin turned around to look at the Madam. She arched an eyebrow at him.

“Are you done daydreaming so early in the morning?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Jongin stole one last glimpse of the handsome musician before he pulled away from the window and bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Madam.”

“Never mind that,” she huffed. “You are on the clock.”

“Who is it?” asked Jongin.

“Mr. Huffman. The red room in the east wing. He is waiting for you.”

“It is rather early… for that, isn’t it? The day has just started.”

“He is an old geezer. His day started at 3 a.m. when he woke up to take a piss for the fifth time last night.”

Jongin smiled.

“Run along now,” rushed the Madam. “And make sure that you are wearing some fancy drawers inside. He’s got a thing for them. Just tire him out so that he does not bother you for the rest of the day but do enough to milk his coin purse to the fullest.”

With a nod of his head, Jongin wended his way out of his room. After working in the bagnio for quite some time, he had of course picked up on a few things to make some ‘appointments’ easier than the others. Especially when it involved older men. Sometimes, he would hardly need to do anything to get them to wear themselves out. Other times, they would rather watch him do things to himself without having their hands on him. He did not always get that fortunate, though. There were times when he was left sobbing into the mattress or in a great amount of pain and humiliation. That was part of the deal he had made with the deal, or just the Madam, when he joined the bagnio. And like most of them, he also had a harrowing backstory that drove him here.

Through all those years, with all those men he had been with, not once had he ever felt good. Even when his body liked some of the things those men did to him, his heart and mind were unwilling to concede. His heart, in particular, was never full. Part of him wondered if he would ever find happiness in this place he now called _home_. It was highly unlikely.

But it was better than being out on the streets with nothing but crumbs to lick off the haves’ boot. He might not find happiness here, but men threw money at him without thinking twice for just a couple of hours with him. That had to be something, right?

Even so, he would not deny that he had always wanted something more. Perhaps it was too greedy of him to want _more_. He did not know what that _more_ entailed. It was too late to find, anyway.

* * *

# Chapter One

With one last brittle strum of the lute, he raised his hand to have a look at his blistered, freezing fingers that must have gone numb at the beginning of winter. Now, he could hardly feel them anymore. He rubbed his hands together and blew some hot breath onto them. Then he glanced up at the window. Only a moment ago, he was eating his heart out as he plucked the strings of his lute, eyes eagerly leering at the window. Almost every morning and every evening, he would see the boy there. Sometimes, the boy would look down to him, too. Their eyes would meet. And when he smiled, the boy would scowl and draw the curtains close. But some evenings, he would look back with something like curiosity and confusion in his gaze. Those evenings were the warmest.

“Adrian,” called B as he approached Adrian with his case of all the necessary tools needed for shoe-polishing.

Adrian rose from his seat on the uncomfortable cask and tightened the threadbare scarf around his neck. “Good morning, B,” he greeted the orphaned boy with a cheery grin.

The kid returned the smile with twice the excitement. “You want a good cup of joe?” he offered, holding out a tankard. The smell of hot coffee instead stung Adrian’s nose.

“Wouldn’t mind if I do, kid,” he said and accepted the tankard of coffee. The warm, aromatic liquid ran down his throat with an ease like no other and hit his belly just right.

B heaved a sigh. “Not many customers that want their shoes polished with all this snow lying about,” he groused.

“Well, there are always my shoes.” Adrian smirked.

“And you will pay?”

“Absolutely.”

Beaming brightly, B immediately dropped to a crouch and started polishing Adrian’s worn-out, only pair of shoes that no amount of polishing could salvage. Once the kid was done, Adrian picked up the little coins he had earn this morning and handed them to B.

“But it is everything you earned today,” said B with a frown.

Adrian shrugged and began to pack his things up. The cask, the piece of rag he laid out on the ground for the coins, and his precious lute, which was once given to him by a good friend.

“So? I will make more later,” said Adrian, giving the boy’s shoulder a pat.

“One would think you are a very rich man for being so generous with your money,” commented the kid, pocketing the coins Adrian had handed him.

“More often than not, it is the rich that are not very generous with their money,” replied Adrian with a smile as he started past the boy with the cask in one arm and then lute in the other.

“I will see you tomorrow then, chief!” exclaimed B.

The boy was called B. B short for ‘Boy’. No one knew what his name was. He grew up on the streets. The boy had no idea who his parents, that had abandoned him along with the garbage in an alley, were. That was everyone’s story in this area, those without a home, without a name, without a single soul for a family.

Adrian had been one of them for a very long time. Only recently, when he turned thirty-two, had he been able to afford a small shack to call his home. It was not warm in the winter, but it at least put a roof over his head for downpours. But he still had no one to call his family.

For many years, he had picked up all sorts of odd jobs. Those that were given to nameless nobodies like him. He had also polished wealthy men’s shoes at one point in his life. He had raked up dried leaves from the sidewalks. He had swept hairs at barber shops. And when he had stronger arms, he lugged around barrels, logs and wheat sacks. He did whatever he could to not to hold his hands out to some toffee-nosed, tight-assed pinchpenny for some coins for his next meal.

It was not as though Adrian had not tried everything he could to get somewhere in his life. It was pathetic for a man in his thirties to live this way. But he was not entirely unhappy. He believed that he could make do with what he had.

But what was good enough for him would not be good enough for others. Well, one person in particular.

As he ambled along the shop lots, a blinding glint caught his eye. Coming to a halt, he glanced over to the silver that was gleaming at him from the shop’s window. A foolish grin stretched his lips then.

The silver chain would look very pretty on a certain bronze skin.

His heart clenched gently at that thought.

He then wandered into the store.

“You,” said the shopkeeper.

Adrian gave him a salute. “Morning, Mr. Kang,” he said with a peppy smile. The shopkeeper only loured at him suspiciously.

“What are you doing? I doubt that there is anything that your wallet could afford in here,” said the man grouchily as he pulled away from the counter he was standing behind.

“Actually, I want that one in the window,” said Adrian, pointing the silver chain.

The shopkeeper scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You cannot afford it, man.”

Adrian pursed his lips for a moment. Then facing the shopkeeper again, he said, “How much does it cost?”

“Thirty-three.”

“Oi…” Adrian let out. “That would cost me my arm… and leg… and kidneys.”

Mr. Kang broke into a guffaw, clutching at his stomach. Adrian blinked at him. “You… think… your body organs… would worth that much?” the man said between his laughs.

Adrian sighed. Well, he had a point. Putting the cask and lute down, Adrian walked over to the window and eyed the silver chain forlornly.

Once the shopkeeper was done laughing, he coughed into a fist and wandered over to Adrian’s side. “Perhaps _this_ could be something a skint street bard like you might be able to afford.”

He pointed to a less shiny, smaller chain next to the silver. Though it looked like a tinny gimcrack compared to the silver jewellery, it was still quite pretty. And it would certainly look good on that delicate wrist.

“It is a steel wristlet,” said the shopkeeper. “Made just for the likes of you. Is there a sweetheart you would want it for? I doubt that you would be looking for jewellery to put on _your_ brutish frame.”

“There is a sweetheart,” said Adrian, smiling at the thought of having a sweetheart.

“Now what woman would be mad enough to love a rabble like you?”

Adrian only smiled. He looked at the wristlet again. Though it was not as pretty as the silver chain, it would still look good on the right wrist.

He walked out of the shop with the wristlet, holding onto his moronic grin. He had never bought anything like this before. Well, he supposed ever since he had seen the boy at the window of the bagnio, he had been constantly undergoing a series of ‘firsts’. It had been both delightful and agonizing. Not that he ever showed how the latter devastated him from time to time.

He would return to the same spot on the street later this evening. And when he looked up, he always hoped to see a pair of curious eyes gazing down at him. With that hope, he wandered to a different street to play his lute.

He still remembered the day he had met those eyes for the first time like it had happened yesterday.

It was a day in springtime, and he was in his usual spot, watching the sky paint gentle streaks of purple in the sky. The sound of pedlars shouting for business was muffled by the melody of the lute. He flashed a smile and tipped his head at every passer-by who tossed him a coin or two.

And by some unbelievable fluke, he had turned his head to catch the sight of someone he had never seen around here before. By the window of the bagnio, the house of male prostitutes. Sometimes, he would see women, clad in lavish fur coats and big hates, walk into the building. They would come out dressed in twice the layers of clothes they had on walking in. Other times, it was men. And they would walk out of the bagnio with a complacent grin.

It was not a place Adrian had ever been in, though. The thought had never even occurred to him once. A man like him could never step a foot in there.

His fingers, that were plucking the strings of the lute, slowly numbed as he continued to look up at the boy standing by the window, and the gentle gaze began to strum the strings of his heart instead.

That was a couple of years ago. Ever since, not a day had passed when Adrian did not show up to the same spot every day and evening to look at the boy, whose name he did not know. In fact, he knew nothing about the boy except that he had a beautiful head of dark hair, a ravishing skin of tawny bronze, delicate fingers when he raised them to the window to trail the morning dewdrops that ran down the glass.

Adrian had not seen someone like that in his life. The world around him had always been bleak and grey. And though he had never seen the boy smile even once, the world lit up when he was in Adrian’s sight.

And he was _so_ beautiful. How could someone be that beautiful? Though Adrian had not once stood closer to him than the distance between the street and bagnio’s window, he already knew that a man who was as rough on the edges as he was could never look like anything but an animal from the streets beside that boy.

But one could dream, could they not?

Which was a strange thing for Adrian. He had never dreamt of anything in his entire life. He had never wanted. He had never yearned. And for the longest time, he had believed that he never would. But all that went out the window when he set his eyes on the boy.

He was left on the street at a tender age when he could even barely walk. Even then, he had not thought that fate was cruel to him. However, when he realized who the first person to have made his heart feel a certain way like it never had before was, he cursed the entire universe and whatever sacred being resided up there in the skies.

Not because of the boy’s chosen or fated walk of life. But because Adrian could not… _afford_ him. And even if he could, he did not want to afford the boy for something that all the other men did.

He had other intentions.

He wanted to meet the boy in person and tell him something.

So, he decided to work his fingers to the bones ever since he decided that, one day, he would want to walk into the bagnio and be able to afford the boy, even for a single day.

When he was not playing the lute by side of the street, he picked up other jobs. Whatever that paid him. He did not care about pride. He would do anything for a coin. That did not mean he would get into someone’s sheets for it, though. Who would want to do any sort of promiscuous deeds with _him_ , he scoffed.

“Adrian,” bade the Housemother when he walked into the poorhouse on his way to his next job.

“Afternoon, ma’am,” he said with a salute and handed her the bag of flour he had picked up on his way. It was what he could afford for today.

“Oh, darling,” the Housemother cooed as she took the bag of flour off his hands. “Look at you. Always bringing us something whenever you visit.”

Adrian smiled as he took his mostly torn scarf off. “Well, you feed my belly plenty whenever I visit. It’s the least I could do.”

“We have baked corn pie today,” said the Housemother, giving Adrian’s arm a playful slap. Her eyes bulged then. “How do you grow your arms so big by playing that instrument?”

Adrian chuckled softly and gave the old lady’s cheek a gentle pinch. She blushed at that and gave his arm another slap. “I have a few other instruments I practise with.”

“Oh, you are a cheeky man,” she chimed and ushered him toward the mess hall. The smell of freshly-baked corn pie made Adrian’s stomach grumble at once.

Some of the folks in the poorhouse waved and beamed at him when they saw him. Others were far too miserable with their fate to notice anything else that happened around them. Adrian could not blame them. He was just thankful that he was given the willpower to see anything and everything through without conceding defeat. Sure, he was not a rich man of any sort, but he always remained strong and determined to see another day. And he did whatever he could to aid those who were even less fortunate than he was.

Kindness was all that he had. Hence, it was all that he could afford others.

Kindness alone was enough to make it in this world, he believed. Until he fell in love.

With a rent boy.

* * *

The merciless blow to the side of his face knocked all the air out of Jongin’s lungs. For a brief moment, he gasped for breath while waiting for his head to stop spinning. Even though it stopped spinning eventually, it continued to pound with an agonizing pain that brewed tears in his eyes.

“You do as I say, you cunt!” yapped the potbellied man, grabbing a handful of Jongin’s hair. Then tugging at it forcefully, he yanked Jongin back to his knees.

With a sob choking him, Jongin slapped the man’s hand off and hurried off the bed. “No!” he croaked out weakly and grabbed his shirt from the floor.

Then frantically pulling the shirt on, he scurried out of the room with tears streaking his cheeks. He felt sick, his guts in a twist, his chest tight with disgust and anger.

“You get back here!” roared the man behind him.

Jongin did not stop until he had run into the Madam’s arms at the bottom of the stairs. He broke down against her then, sobbing unchecked. Gasping in shock, the Madam cupped Jongin’s weeping, burning face in her hands.

“Oh, dear,” she rasped, gawking at Jongin’s throbbing cheek that had crimsoned into a faint shade of red. Almost instantly, her eyes flared up in rage.

“Insolent! Arrogant little bitch!” spat the client as he made his way down the stairs, fastening the laces of his trousers. “Is this how you conduct your business?! With impertinent whores like him?!”

The Madam drew Jongin aside and stepped up to the man. “You hit my boy?” she asked through her grit teeth.

“He would not do what I paid him to do!”

The Madam glanced back at Jongin with an arched eyebrow. Jongin could stop the tears, no matter how many times he wiped them away. Then facing the man again, she crossed her arms over her chest.

“You listen to me, Mr. Bridge,” snarled the Madam. “You raise your hand to one of my boys here, and I will make sure that one certain oblivious Mrs. Bridge will come to know of your frequent visits here. Now, apologize to him.”

“I will do no such thing!” hissed the man. “Apologize to a tramp! Are you out of your mind?!”

“Then you leave me no choice but to ask you to take your business to some other bagnio.”

With his face crumpled sourly, the man wended his way back upstairs to gather his items.

Huffing heavily, the Madam turned to Jongin. “Are you all right, darling?” she asked, giving Jongin’s stinging cheek a gentle caress.

“He… wanted me to…” Jongin trailed off, snivelling. “I just… could not.”

“I understand, dear.” She carded her fingers through his hair. “Now, go splash some cold water on your face. You can take the rest of the day off, but I expect you to work extra tomorrow for the losses Mr. Bridge incurred.”

Jongin gave a shaky nod of his pulsating head.

Wearing nothing but the creased shirt, he slowly meandered his way through the bagnio and headed for his room. He could not wait to wash himself, get rid of every last trace of that vile man from his body.

But as soon as he reached the room, his knees almost buckled as he ran toward the water basin where he retched and coughed up some pungent, hot liquid. Almost choking on it, he drew in a few deep breaths and blinked the tears blinding his vision away from his eyes.

He then took a look at the splotches of blood staining the water in the basin. Although it was not the first time he had seen something like it, it still made his stomach and heart clench.

Unable to hold himself up any longer, he dropped to the floor, bracing himself against a wall. He then wrapped his arms around his legs and hugged his knees to his chest, trying to calm his racing heart.

The room spun around him for a while. At times like this, all that he could do was clutch his arms around his head and wait for the murderous headache to pass. Along with his head, his chest hurt, too.

When he could finally breathe and think again, he leaned his head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling of his room. There were so many people who were less fortunate than he was, he thought. Things could be a lot worse for him, could they not? Perhaps death was also a mercy for him.

Every night when he went to sleep, or at least on the nights he could go to sleep to and was not working, he would wonder if tonight would be his last night breathing. Would he even open his eyes the next morning, he would wonder. Part of him wished that he did not encounter another day as he closed his eyes. Because then, his suffering would end.

There was a time when he too was once a boy full of dreams and aspirations. He too wanted to reach for the skies. He wanted to fall in love. He wanted to have a beautiful family and a wonderful life. It did not have to be luxurious. Just happy.

Perhaps that was asking for too much.

Over the years, he had lost hope to achieve any of it. Right now, as he rapidly withered with each passing day, all that he could hope for was a silent, painless end.

But in case his wish for a painless end did not come true, he had another alternative.

He glanced to the bedside drawers where a bottle of relief awaited him. It had not been easy to acquire it. But fortunately, some months ago, he had shown a resourceful man a very good time. In return, along with plenty of coins, the man left Jongin with a favour he had asked for.

He did not want to use it. However, should he be left bereft of the last silver of solace and hope, he at least knew that the ‘favour’ was there to put him out of his misery.

* * *

Adrian wiped off the sweat beads that collected on his forehead, in spite of it being one of the coldest winters.

“That was it,” he said approaching the logger. His arms and back were sore from lugging felled trees into the warehouse for timber and firewood. “Unless there is more.”

“No, that will be all for today,” said the logger as he rummaged through his coin purse before fishing out a few silvers. “Here’s something for your trouble.”

Accepting the wage, Adrian considered the coins for a moment. “Is this not… too much?” he then asked the logger, realizing that he was paid more than usual.

The logger, despite being much shorter and smaller than Adrian, lifted a hand to Adrian’s shoulder. “It’s the holidays. You earned it.”

Adrian smiled a wide smile. “Oh… Thank you so much.”

As he picked up his worn-out and threadbare jacket, his heart began to beat fast. For an unbelievably long time, he had been saving every penny he could. All for that one dream. And now, he could afford it.

The reality refused to sink in. As made his way back to his shack on foot, he could not stop staring at the coins in his hand. His large, callused hand that wanted to feel the unblemished, soft skin of the boy he loved. Not that he would ever dare touch the boy, though.

But it was happening. He had saved enough. He could afford a night at the bagnio now. He continued to gawk stupidly in disbelief. Part of him wanted to hurry to the bagnio as fast as his feet could carry him. But the other part of him could not even turn a hair. Until now, he only thought it would be a pipe dream. But now… it was possible.

And that terrified him a little.

Would the boy even want to spend a night with someone like Adrian? Even if it were for money? What if he were disgusted with Adrian? What if everything about Adrian repulsed the boy? Adrian did not think he could live with such a heartbreak. Was that not ironic? No adversity he had faced in life had managed to break his spirit, but one little heartbreak would? Even the strongest of men had their weakness, Adrian supposed.

His was love.

What if his love were not returned? He supposed that would not be so bad. All that he truly wanted was to just tell the boy he loved something he had been longing to tell him all these years.

Stopping by the poorhouse facility, he washed and cleaned himself before heading back to his shack to pick up his lute. But when he reached the shack that held one small straw pallet that could barely fit his frame, he stopped to hesitate for a while. He then plumped down on the pallet and buried his head in his hands. As much as he wanted to head over to the bagnio this very instant, he decided to call it a day. He used to believe that he could brave everything. But now that he was at a crossroads, he did not know if he could brave the forthcoming and inevitable rejection.

* * *

The gentle sound of the tolling chapel bell roused Jongin awake in the evening. He did not know when he had even fallen asleep after that disastrous morning. His body felt sorer than usual. He reached for the decanter and poured himself a glass of water to soothe his parched throat.

Then he stopped for a moment, realizing that he did not hear the sound of the lute that was always carried in the wind at this hour of the evening. Out of curiosity and a slight disappointment, he rose from the bed and wandered over to the window, through which he gazed out to the street across.

Much to his surprise, the man with the lute was not there.

Jongin raised a hand to the cold glass of the window.

 _Where is he_ , he wondered. The man was always there, every morning and every evening. Notwithstanding the fact that Jongin had been seeing the man there, on the same spot, playing the same lute for the past few years, they had not once met in person. Of course, the man did not seem like someone who could afford to enter the bagnio. And well, Jongin would not associate himself with a street rabble. But whenever their eyes would meet, it felt as though they had known each other forever. Body and soul. It was uncanny. The feeling sometimes left a burning fire in the pit of his stomach.

He drew his fingertips along the glass and stared at the pile of snow that was sitting on the spot where he could usually find the man with the lute.

Then in the softest whisper, he uttered, “Where are you?”

* * *

# Chapter Two

This was the day. He had waited for it for far too long. But now that it was finally here, he could not stop his hands from shaking. Perhaps it was the bloody wintry wind that numbed every uncovered inch of his skin.

Blowing some hot breath onto his hands, he rubbed them together before sticking them in the pockets of his jacket.

He stood before the doors of the bagnio with his heart in his mouth, gazing up at the building. He took a step forward but halted when he saw a man exit his carriage, clad in opulent garments, and saunter into the bagnio with the sort of confidence in his stride that Adrian could not muster when deciding to walk into a brothel.

Of course, not that Adrian judged anyone who worked in the bagnio or the men and women that occasionally paid it a visit. But still, the bagnio was no place for a man like him. A street rabble.

He watched the wealthy, well-dressed man strut past him, shoulders squared, chin held up. The man’s striking green eyes turned to Adrian briefly and pinned him with a curious look, surveying the rags Adrian was attired in. He had to be at least a few years older than Adrian, though nothing about him—except for the little grey streaks in his hair and faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes—gave it away.

Adrian paused for a few minutes, drawing in deep breaths to calm his nerves after the man had disappeared through the bagnio’s doors.

“You can do this,” he muttered to himself with a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. Though he had not gotten a haircut in months, he had managed to trim his beard earlier this morning. He wanted to look as presentable as he possibly could for his first meeting with the boy of his dreams.

It sounded ridiculously sappy, even in the privacy of his thoughts and headspace. _The boy of his dreams…_

It still made him smile like a lovesick idiot nonetheless.

Adrian loved music. Until he had seen the boy by the bagnio’s window, music was all that the man had loved and cherished. Even during the days when he had not a single morsel to appease his hunger, the days where he starved himself to sleep, a gentle strum of his lute could make him feel all the better. He did not think that his heart could swell the way it did for music for a person. But it did. His heart would leap and cavort to a symphony like no other whenever he caught a sight of the boy.

He direly hoped that he would be able to keep himself composed as he met the boy in person for the first time. He did not want to do or say something stupid to put the boy off.

Giving his clothes one final check, he decided to brave his misgivings and walk into the bagnio with tentative steps.

As soon as he pushed the doors open, the storming onrush of perfume consumed his every sense. He stopped and gasped for a big breath. He had never smelled anything so… fragrant. Along with the flowery, fruity blend of scents, he caught a whiff of cigar fumes. And something that smelled like rich, spiced wine.

All that he could wonder about in that moment was which one of those three things would the boy smell like. His heart did an embarrassing somersault in his chest at that thought. The thought of him nuzzling his nose into a crook of the boy’s neck to inhale the scent of his skin.

What was he thinking… He had not even met the boy. It was disrespectful to have such untoward ideas about the boy.

Shaking those obscenities out of his head, he looked around the entrance hall to the bagnio. Apart from the lit grand crystal chandelier that was hanging from the ceiling, there was not much light. All the windows were barred with deep red drapes drawn over them. Unlike the cold outside, the bagnio was oozing warmth. In fact, it was so warm that Adrian had to take his scarf off. He then wandered through the hallway, rubbing the back of his neck.

Prior to seeing the boy, he had not once imagined that he would be walking into the bagnio one day with the very intention of spending his coin to afford a rent boy.

“Hello.”

Adrian came to a sudden standstill when he heard the voice booming across the hallway. Turning around, he faced the woman, who was dressed in an extravagant gown and a big hairdo. She might be in her late forties, Adrian surmised. At her side stood the gentleman Adrian had met outside a moment ago.

Giving Adrian a look from head to bottom, she offered a smile. “Did you perhaps get lost and wander into the wrong building?” she asked.

It did not sound like an insult. Perhaps it was. But maintaining the same aplomb Adrian always did in the face of such ignominy that people like him often did, he smiled back and bowed his head to the woman.

“I do not think I have,” he said coolly.

The woman arched an eyebrow at him. She must be the one running the place and business. “You could not have walked in here looking for…” she trailed off with a smirk.

Adrian never thought it would be this difficult to admit that he had come looking for a particular boy. A lump in his throat made it nearly impossible for him to speak any further.

He scratched the back of his head and cleared his throat. “As a matter of fact… I have.”

The man standing next to the woman scoffed with condescension. “That so?” he muttered, snickering.

The woman, on the other hand, looked surprised. Nevertheless, she said, “You must be confused, Mr…?”

“Adrian,” said Adrian.

“Adrian?” She cocked her eyebrow again.

“I… don’t have a last name.”

“Of course,” she sighed. “Well, Mr. Adrian. This is a house of prostitution. In order to be… _entertained_ , you need to have the resources.”

“Oh, I do,” rasped Adrian as he reached deep into his pockets to pull out the three pouches of small coins he had been saving for the past few years.

When he held them out to the Madam, she blinked as though she were left aghast.

“I see,” she let out. “Well, a business is a business.” She smiled again and accepted the pouches. “Now, come with me.” She paused briefly to look to the other man. “You too, Mr. Parker.”

Adrian exhaled nervously and followed after the Madam. As he sauntered through the bagnio, he tried to remain calm. He glanced to the man called Mr. Parker, who was eyeing him with something like derision in his gaze. Adrian gave him no response. After all, the bagnio was a place for men like Mr. Parker. Here, Adrian was a fish out of water. In fact, anywhere but the street he would be a fish out of water.

He felt like one, too.

Though Mr. Parker was considerably shorter than Adrian was—most men were shorter than Adrian was—he did not seem fazed as he strutted with his head held high, shoulders almost as broad as Adrian’s own.

The sickly smell of the perfume grew stronger with every step Adrian advanced, treading on the Madam’s footsteps.

“Now, Mr. Adrian, do you have preferences?” she asked without looking back at him.

Adrian rubbed the nape of his neck awkwardly. How could he tell her he wanted that one particular boy when he did not even know what the boy was called or what he looked like when standing without the distance between the street and the window of the bagnio?

The Madam came to a stop when she received no answer. Facing Adrian with a curious look, she said, “Your preferences, Mr. Adrian.”

“Uh…” Adrian drawled uncomfortably, carding his fingers through his hair.

The Madam’s eyes narrowed. “Do you prefer to take or give? Or perhaps both?”

Adrian stopped for a moment to gawk at her. He knew now what she had meant by his ‘preferences’. Choking on a breath, he coughed coyly and shook his head. “I… um… no preferences.”

“No preferences?” she asked in surprise. “Is there something in particular that you are looking for? I have all sorts of boys here. Tall, short, small, big, gentle, rough. Anything.”

Adrian could not stop his cheeks from burning. It sounded wrong. Perhaps this entire thing was wrong and a mistake. “I… don’t know,” he let out miserably.

She smirked. “A strapping man like you surely _know_ ,” she said. “But maybe you would like to have a look for yourself first before deciding.”

She then ushered Adrian into a room. Shoving through the drapes that were drawn over the entrance, Adrian stepped into an oval-shaped room that was fogged with smoke that oddly smelled good. It took his eyes a moment to adjust their vision before he gazed around the room.

With his jaw set tight, he glanced at the young boys lounged on the piles of cushions on the floor, most of them wearing close to nothing, sucking at the tube of narghiles. Some of their gazes instantly turned in Adrian’s way, and promptly, they smiled at him, drawing their see-through light robes, which resembled a woman’s negligee, open to expose whatever skin they could. A handful of boys only had a filmy cloth loosely tied around their waist, the rest of the bodies put to show.

Adrian swallowed hard and lowered his gaze guiltily. It was as though he were embarrassed and reluctant to disrespect those boys by gawking at them so obscenely. Not that those boys seemed like they would be offended by the attention.

“Mr. Parker,” said the Madam to the other man. “If you would wait for a while, my other boys would entertain you.”

With a curt nod of his head, Mr. Parker wended his way to one of the chaise lounges. As he took a seat, three of the scantily-covered boys joined him, two sidling next to him while another settled on the man’s lap.

As the boy began to kiss along Mr. Parker’s neck, Adrian averted his gaze.

“Pick anyone you want from here,” said the Madam when she turned to Adrian again.

For a moment, all that Adrian did was stare at her. He had never been given such a choice. To pick something he wanted from an array of options. Then mustering the courage to look, he lifted his eyes and ran them over the room, searching for the specific set of eyes he wanted to look into for a very, very long time.

But the boy was not there.

With disappointment mangling his guts, he turned to the woman running the place once more. “The… person I’m looking for… is not here,” he admitted humbly.

The Madam said nothing momentarily. Then with a confused look, she said, “Oh. You are… looking for someone?”

Adrian cleared his throat again. “Well… I suppose. But I do not know his name. He just—”

He stopped himself when he was interrupted by someone who entered the room, pushing the drapes aside.

Immediately, like a rock thrown to his chest, his heart seized and stopped beating for a cruel moment. He almost thought that his heart would fall out of his chest.

His soft gaze was kept low. The delicateness in his steps made it seem as though he were floating on water surface. The barely laced shirt clung to his body loosely, sagging a little by the shoulders. There was a faint shimmer of gold dust on his cheekbones. His lips were plump, and they looked so soft, like the pink bud of a rose, sprouted on the first day of spring. His lightly tan skin was even more beautiful up-close. The strayed strands of hair that fell over his face were also beautiful.

It was the boy.

He was… more than what Adrian had thought he would be.

Every single one of his movements was graceful, almost vulnerable. Adrian did not think that he could feel such an agony and joy simultaneously simply by looking at someone.

When the boy raised his head at long last, his eyes halted Adrian dead in his tracks. He was left in a fiercer trance that choked him.

The boy’s eyes met his. At first, they were filled with something like surprise. Then they blunted into something like confusion. But they stared up at Adrian, wide and curious. The boy looked as though he were holding his breath, standing frozen.

After having loved him only from afar for all this time, it felt surreal to have the boy so close at hand. All that Adrian would have to do to touch was stretch an arm and hold a hand out.

But then he saw the boy’s eyebrows furrow into what looked like a scowl. Adrian’s face wilted as the boy sharply turned his gaze away.

“Ah, Jongin, my darling,” said the Madam as the boy approached him. “Mr. Parker has been awaiting you.”

Jongin. His name was… Jongin. It was both strange and delightful to finally put a name to the person Adrian had been silently in love with for the past few years.

Adrian realized that he was not even trying to take any breath until he was beginning to suffocate. Then inhaling and exhaling at a rapid pace, he continued to stare at the boy, hands curled into fists to stop themselves from reaching out and touching the boy. Oh, for how long he had longed to feel the boy’s skin. And now that they were standing in the same room, in the same breathing space with less than three feet between them, Adrian did not want to besmirch the boy’s perfect, flawless-looking skin with his rough, blistered, filthy hands.

Jongin…

Jongin was not even looking at him anymore. _Look at me,_ Adrian begged the boy tacitly.

Mr. Parker rose from the chaise lounge and wandered over to the boy. The moment he curled an arm around the boy’s lean waist and pulled him close, Adrian’s chest tightened. As much as he knew his displeasure and the urge to march over to the man and yank that arm off of the boy were completely irrational and that it would be crossing a line, he could not help the miserable throes that rose up his throat and clutched at it.

“Mr. Parker,” said the boy softly, although he was not looking at the other man’s eyes, with a hand raised to the man’s chest. Instead, he looked at Adrian instead, and the deadened expression in his face lightened up. The disbelief and surprise returned to the boy’s brittle gaze that knifed Adrian’s heart. It was as though he were just as entranced as Adrian was with the fact that they were no longer looking at each other with the barrier of the window.

His voice… It was so soft and delicate. Just as Adrian had imagined it to be. He had heard the boy’s voice at last. Part of him felt as though he were soaring in the skies, while the other part of him had never felt more grounded, mortal and ordinary.

Compared to his voice, Adrian’s sounded like a barbarian’s. Guttural, hoarse, deep and gravelly. And when he spoke, he did not sound angelic like the boy did.

His fingers that were lightly pressed against Mr. Parker’s chest where slim and dainty. Pretty. His nails were clean, cuticles shiny. Unlike Adrian’s fingernails that had permanent dirt caking beneath them. He self-consciously drew his hands to his back as though to hide their ugliness from the boy.

“Why don’t you escort Mr. Parker up?” said the Madam to Jongin.

When the boy did not respond as he continued to stare at Adrian, the Madam glanced to Adrian briefly before she pinned Jongin with a curious lour.

“Sweet pea,” she called, raising a hand to Jongin’s cheek to stroke it. The boy snapped out of it then and tore his soft gaze from Adrian, fixing it on the Madam. “Did you hear me? Take Mr. Parker up and show him a good time, will you?”

The boy slowly bowed his head and pulled away from the man, who was insisting on clinging onto Jongin. “This way, Mr. Parker,” the boy said, and his voice once again striking Adrian dumb and weak.

As he took hold of Mr. Parker’s arm and guided him out of the room, he looked at Adrian again.

The boy was taller than Adrian had expected him to be. Lean with lanky limbs and hollow cheeks. But he would still be small in Adrian’s arms. And boy, Adrian could not stop thinking about how it would feel to have the boy in his arms.

“Well, Mr. Adrian,” the Madam said as she turned to him. “Where were we? You were telling you are looking for someone particular?”

Letting out a raspy breath, Adrian hurriedly pointed to the boy before he could exit the room with Mr. Parker. “Him,” Adrian spat, head feeling a little heavy.

The Madam blinked, flinching back as though Adrian’s response had startled her. “I beg your pardon?”

Jongin stopped too when he realized his Madam and Adrian were talking about him. Turning around, he glanced at Adrian with that same disbelieving look that felt like a blow to his chest.

Parting his lips to speak, Adrian wordlessly stared at the boy for a long moment, not knowing if what he had said and was about to say next would offend the boy.

“I… I w-want him,” Adrian eventually managed to get out in a shaky breath without taking his eyes off the boy.

Even Jongin’s bronze skin could not hide the rosy scarlet that coloured his cheeks and the tip of his ears.

“Him?” said the Madam. “Jongin, did you hear the big man here? He wants to rent you, darling.”

If Adrian did not know any better, he would have thought that he saw the boy blush in shyness. He did not look so bashful when Mr. Parker was touching him.

But now, he could hardly look at Adrian in the eyes.

“I’m sorry, Adrian,” said the Madam. “But the boy has been booked by Mr. Parker for the entire day.”

The entire day?

Adrian could not help the bitterness that crumpled his face. But then he calmed down, realizing that he had no right to be mad about it. Perhaps the boy liked Mr. Parker. Perhaps he would be content entertaining the atrociously handsy man for an _entire_ day.

“But I have paid you,” said Adrian, looking away from the boy. “And he is the one I want.”

The words rang in his own ears, even though they tasted so sweet on his tongue. Jongin was indeed the only one Adrian wanted and had ever wanted.

It seemed so wrong to _want_ a person when Adrian had never wanted to own even an inanimate item. And the fact that that person could be _bought_ … It did not sit well with Adrian.

But he also had no other way to meet and speak with the boy. Or at least, the fact was that the boy would not want anything to do with Adrian unless he was paid for.

The Madam’s eyebrows rose in further astonishment. Then at length, she smiled. “Of course. Most men who step into this bagnio desire my best boy. He is very pretty, is he not?”

He was. More than words could ever justify.

But Adrian was here, going to such extent, for simply the way the boy _looked_ at him. No one had looked at him like that. Adrian fell for that gaze the first time he saw it.

Adrian did not answer the Madam out loud as he turned to look at the boy, who was blushing again.

The Madam eyed Jongin with an intrigued smirk. “All right then,” she said at last. “He must entertain Mr. Parker as promised today. But perhaps tomorrow evening, he would be more than happy to offer you his company and service.”

Adrian did not like the fact that the Madam spoke for the boy, even though he understood that that was how things worked in places as such. The Madam owned the boy, just like she owned every other rent boy in the bagnio. She made their decisions for them. It was probably why Adrian had never seen Jongin step a foot out of the bagnio.

“Do I get to… have him all to myself… tomorrow?” asked Adrian.

“You have paid enough for six hours, I believe. So, that entails an entire evening.”

“All right,” spat Adrian, looking to the Madam. “Tomorrow then.”

“He is a street musician,” interfered the boy all of a sudden.

Adrian turned to him with his heart skipping a beat. Jongin was not talking to him, but he was looking at Adrian nevertheless.

“A penniless,” added the boy. Although his words were meant to be offensive and belittling, neither his tone nor his expression cooperated. He tried glowering next. It did not suit him, but it became clear that he wanted to make Adrian feel as though he were not deserving enough to take Jongin even for an evening.

“He came with money,” said the Madam, placing a hand on the boy’s back.

That was when Jongin’s eyes rose to scowl at Adrian. But almost immediately, his hard expression softened into something like embarrassment or diffidence, or even submission. Adrian’s own breathing quickened.

“Now, run along. Do not keep Mr. Parker waiting,” said the Madam, ushering Jongin out of the room.

Adrian rubbed his trimmed beard and sighed heavily. That was not the first meeting he had hoped for with the boy. He had not expected either of them to freeze and stutter so much that they were unable to even look at each other’s eyes.

“I will see you tomorrow, Mr. Adrian,” said the Madam as she held the drapes open for him.

He paused to glance back at the other boys in the room. One of them, with a head full of shimmering golden hair, flashed a sultry smirk in Adrian’s way before he brought a finger to his lips. Parting them, he slid the finger into his mouth and began to offensively lick and suck it, his lubricious tongue swirling around it.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Adrian looked away and hastened out of the room.

It was not as though he was a celibate or anything. He had had his fair share of men and women in bed. But it had been a while. He had not been able to even look at another person with any sort of sexual desire ever since his heart had decided for itself that the boy was the one it wanted.

Jongin…

And tomorrow, Adrian would be able to tell the boy of his dreams what he had wanted to tell him all this while.

* * *

# Chapter Three

Mr. Parker was one of the good ones. He was kind than most men who sought relief in the bagnio. His demands were reasonable, and he never tried to hurt Jongin or any other of the boys here. Sometimes, being with him was even pleasurable.

Not today, though.

“Are you all right?”

Jongin looked at the man who was hovering on top of him, withdrawing his vacant gaze from the wall he had been staring blankly for the past few minutes.

Blinking at Mr. Parker, he gave a small nod of his head as he lay reclined on the bed with the pillow at the back of his head and Mr. Parker between his legs.

“You seem to be distracted,” said the other man, giving Jongin’s cheek a gentle caress with the back of his fingers. “Is there something on your mind?”

As a matter of fact, there was.

The man.

From the street.

The man with the lute.

He was in the bagnio. Asking for… Jongin.

Of all the odd and peculiar things that had happened to him in his life, this had to take the cake. He was not sure what was stranger, seeing the man he had only been looking at from across the street behind the window of the bagnio, or the fact that the man wanted… him.

He wanted an evening with Jongin. He had… paid for Jongin.

Perhaps he too was like every other man. Men who took what they desired with money.

But the man with the lute had not seemed like someone who could just get whatever they desired with money. He certainly would not be playing a lute by the street every single day if he had had that privilege.

“N-No,” he muttered, bringing his hands to Mr. Parker’s back.

With an arched eyebrow, Mr. Parker then said, “If you are so distracted, I can find someone else.”

That was a threat. A threat Jongin had heard many times from many men. But not from Mr. Parker before. The annoyance was palpable in the man’s eyes.

“It’s the beggar from earlier, isn’t it?” asked Mr. Parker. “He has your thoughts muddled.”

“He… is not a beggar,” said Jongin in a very quiet voice, glancing away.

Mr. Parker did not respond for a stretch as he continued to pin Jongin with a hard glare. “Do you know him?”

“Why… are we… talking about him?” asked Jongin diffidently.

“Because he clearly has you troubled.”

“He hasn’t,” lied Jongin, hooking his arms around Mr. Parker’s neck to draw him back down when the latter began to pull away. “Please. I am not distracted, sir.”

With narrowed eyes, Mr. Parker stared him down for a moment. “A dreg like him dares to march in here and ask for someone as beautiful as you. He must have forgotten his place.”

“It is no matter,” said Jongin. But then as he saw the way Mr. Parker’s expression hardened, he murmured, “He has… forgotten his place.”

“I have offered you many times, my love,” said Mr. Parker. He was not the first man to call Jongin ‘his love’. All men who wanted to take him to bed told him what they thought he wanted to hear. Those sweet, honeyed words that meant nothing at the end of it all. “Leave the bagnio. Allow me to buy you off for good. You can serve me at my side. Always.”

Until Jongin lost his youth and beauty or until Mr. Parker lost his interest in him, that was. Not _always._

“I am flattered by your offer,” said Jongin gently. “But I must refuse once again. I cannot leave my Madam.”

He did not want to be by Mr. Parker’s side. The man was married and had children of his own. He had a wife awaiting his return at home. Most men who had been with Jongin always had a naïve, unwitting wife waiting for them back home.

He did not want to be anybody’s dirty secret for any longer than what their money could buy.

He clenched his eyes when Mr. Parker huffed disappointedly. He lay still as Mr. Parker peppered his neck with kisses.

While Mr. Parker proceeded with what he had come here for, Jongin was once again lost in his thoughts. There were some parts of him that were eager for tomorrow. His Madam had promised the man with the lute. Jongin would be expected to entertain the man tomorrow. He was just not sure what to do.

Well, of course, he knew what he was supposed to do with men who ‘rented’ him. But this somehow… felt different. His heart was pounding uncharacteristically. It was strange. It was an unfamiliar feeling.

He was nervous.

And shy.

The way he had looked at Jongin. As though he were out of breath.

Although Jongin had known the man for quite some time, meeting him in such close proximity still stunned Jongin in ways he could not describe. He must have looked stupid, gawking at the man like that.

He was tall, huge with massive shoulders and hands. He must have toiled day and night to have a build like that. And his hair was indeed thick, though long overdue for a haircut. He was more handsome up-close. The kind of rugged handsome that turned Jongin’s knees to water.

He was not like any other man who had walked into the bagnio with their cleanshaven faces or extravagant raiment or their fat coin pouches that never ran out of supply. He was clad in frayed, worn-out clothes that was nearly falling apart at the seams. He also sported this beard that looked prickly. Jongin wondered what it would feel like to have his skin scrape that bearded, angled jaw. His heart fluttered stupidly at the thought.

None of it mattered more than his penetrating dark eyes. Though they were sharp and attentive, they were not unkind. They were the same eyes that had been looking up at Jongin all that time.

It was a disappointment nonetheless. He did not know what he had been expecting of the man. But perhaps he did not want the man to be like the others. He did not want to be… bought. Not by him.

He supposed all of them were the same. The same desperate, greedy men. Even a street rabble like him.

_Adrian…_

* * *

The Madam had cleared out his schedule during the day, knowing that Mr. Parker had worn him out completely the day before. Jongin used the morning and afternoon to rest and refresh. Not that there was much he could do to rest when his head would not stop throbbing. He felt sick, as though he were about to throw up for almost every single minute of the day.

All morning, he remained in bed, unable to pick his body up. His pounding head would spin every time he tried to get out of bed and stand on his feet. He wanted to die already.

It felt as though something was tearing him up from the inside. And it affected every last one of his senses. He could not breathe, he could not think, he could hardly move a muscle without wishing that he was dead.

By noon, the agony subsided. He joined some of the others at the bagnio in the feast hall for lunch. No one was his friend at the bagnio. They always looked at him with a spiteful look, as though a green-eyed monster was gnawing at their stomach every time Jongin was in the same room as them. The Madam said that it was because none of them attracted as much business as Jongin did. They were envious of him. Of his prowess in gratifying men, of his exotic beauty, of his luck and of his youthful exuberance. Which was slowly dying now.

So, Jongin remained alone in the bagnio whenever he was not with a client. After a while, the loneliness had stopped bothering him. He was just grateful that he was not out on the street where he would starve, go cold, and be preyed on by heinous beings.

He had no friends, no family, no love.

Most boys in here did not. And they all had learnt to be all right with it because they had no other choice.

After lunch, Jongin returned to his room. His own private room, which he was not required to share with anyone else. The Madam had been very generous when she offered Jongin’s very own quarters after he had become her most valuable whore.

He took a seat on the edge of the bed and rummaged through the bedside drawers for a second. Fishing out a vial of dark, viscous liquid, he held it in his hand and stared at it for long. One of these days, he might have to put it to use. But not today.

He had been looking forward to this evening ever since Mr. Parker had taken off last night. He was yet to determine whether the butterflies in his stomach denoted excitement or trepidation. But they were there, flitting about, making his heart hammer against his chest.

He had never been with a man like the man with the lute. Adrian, Jongin vaguely remembered the Madam calling him. What was the man expecting of him?

Whatever it was, Jongin thought it wise to be prepared for it.

Stashing the vial back in the back of the drawer, he rose from the bed and started for the bathing chamber.

As he shed his clothes to the floor, one by one, unhurriedly, he recalled the first time he was prepared for an ‘appointment’. The Madam did it herself. She plucked a lost, forsaken boy from the street, when he ended up on the bagnio’s doorstep, seeking refuge from the severity of the outside world, which Jongin had not been used to.

As a child, he grew up in a very small sphere. It protected him from everything interesting, challenging, dangerous, and adventurous. So, when he landed on the street one day, all of a sudden, he realized that he had no skills to survive the world that would not welcome little boys like him.

Fortunately, the Madam saw the potential in him. As she bathed and cleaned him up before putting him in a different kind of finery than the one he was used to, she told him that in some time, he would be very profitable. She fed him with compliments and confidence he had never received in his former home. She told him that he was young, beautiful, and remarkable with an avant-garde allure. And that he should use them all for his advantage. It was not long after that when he understood that there were men, _rich_ men, who would worship him.

The first time the Madam readied him for one of those men, Jongin had been incredibly excited and worried. While one part of him wanted to be loved and worshipped the way his Madam promised him the men would when they saw him, the other part of him was afraid of the forthcoming uncertainty. He had learnt everything he could from the Madam, and she believed that he was ready for it.

But Jongin did not feel ready. Even so, he decided to go with it because he wanted to know what it was like to be loved and cherished by someone, even for one night.

The man had paid golds to obtain Jongin for that one night. Jongin, a pristine, untouched, innocent flower that was yet to bloom. Men would pay through their nose for him, said the Madam.

It had not been an entirely unpleasant experience, much to Jongin’s surprise. Perhaps he had expected the worst. But at the same time, he did not prepare himself for what came next when it was all over.

The man had been kind and gentle to him. He had kissed Jongin on the lips. He had touched every inch of Jongin’s body, tasted it, savoured it. Amidst all the pain and discomfort, there was something beautiful about… lovemaking.

But when the night came to an inevitable end, Jongin was left with nothing but disappointment and a bitter taste in his mouth. He had fallen ill for a few days after that.

It was foolish of him to fall for a man he had just met. For a man who was there just to fuck him. He knew everything. He was informed. Yet he could not stop himself for feeling such stupid things for the man who had taken him for the first time.

After that, it took Jongin a while to get used to it all. To turn his heart and emotions off when he was with a client. Before he knew it, every last bit of his innocence and virtue was spent. He no longer had anything of his own to give. No man who wanted him made him feel anything but a void of nothingness.

But for the first time in a very long time, Jongin was feeling the same exhilaration, eagerness, and agitation he had undergone like the time he had first been with a man intimately.

As he slinked into the tub of warm, perfumed water, he wondered what a man like the man with the lute expected of him. Adrian… was burly with arms that looked powerful enough to take down two men with a single strike. He was nothing like the men Jongin knew in his experience. The uncouthness in Adrian was also charming. What would those huge, callused hands feel like around Jongin’s slender waist? Rough? Demanding? Or would they surprise Jongin by being completely gentle and considerate?

What did Adrian’s muscles look like beneath all those rags? Solid? Firm? Jongin clenched his hands under the water when he realized he wanted to feel the muscles on the man’s back tauten under his touch.

Shutting his eyes, Jongin leaned his head back against the edge of the tub. He had dreamt of Adrian last night when Mr. Parker had finally allowed him to rest. Which was strange, because he never had dreams. Perhaps it was an omen. A bad one.

Once he had decided that he was clean enough, he climbed out of the water and dried himself with a towel before standing in front of the mirror to give his naked body a thorough study. The bruises Mr. Parker had left on him had faded thankfully. He then ran a hand down his chest and belly. The illness was taking a toll on his appearance. He was all skin-and-bones. It would not be long before he stopped being the clients’ favourite. The Madam would find someone younger and more beautiful to replace him. That was how things worked at the bagnio. Once someone stopped being profitable, he was no longer important.

He did not know what he was nervous about, though. He was good enough for a penniless vagrant like Adrian. In fact, he could be ten times uglier and he would still be way out of Adrian’s league.

But that was not it. He was nervous about something else. He just could not quite put his finger on it.

He clothed himself in something conservative. A simple shirt and a pair of khaki trousers. He was not sure why he wanted to look… ordinary. Perhaps because he was entertaining someone so ordinary. When he picked up the perfume bottle, he stopped himself and looked up at the mirror again. Without spritzing the perfume onto his neck and behind his ears like he always did for his clients, he put the bottle down on the dresser and sighed.

Perhaps he did not want to look ordinary. Perhaps he just… wanted to be himself for once. Without all this finery. He wondered if the street musician would be just as interested in him if he were not all dolled up.

When the time finally came, he rose to his feet and took a few deep breaths. He had not had a single conversation with the man in spite of having been in the same room for a few minutes. He did not know what he would say to Adrian. Hopefully nothing stupid.

He then wandered over to the bed to wait for the man there.

* * *

“This is unbelievable,” Adrian muttered to himself as he ascended the staircase with his stomach churning, as though something was stabbing him from the inside. “You could not send him a letter like a normal person? You had to do this, didn’t you?” he grumbled to himself, fingers rifling through his hair to pull out whatever clumps of snow that were tangled in the slightly long strands.

When he reached the top of the staircase, he stopped to suck in some breaths to calm his racing heart. He had an entire night and the following day to prepare himself. But he did not think anything could prepare him for _this_. He barely batted an eye when putting a fist through a man’s skull in a street fight, but he could not muster the courage to face the boy he loved. Alone, inside four walls.

He followed the direction that was given to him to find the room. Upon arriving at the door, he came to a halt and rubbed the back of his stiff neck, trying to ease up. The boy was also just another human being. It was not a big deal. Adrian did not have to be so nervous. Except that the boy was not only that. He was… someone who had the power to rip Adrian’s heart apart with a single glance.

Balling a hand into a loose fist, he raised it. He paused for a moment with his knuckles only less than an inch away from the door. He had to do this. He had waited for too long for this opportunity. He would regret it for the rest of his pathetic life if he walked away now.

There was just a door between him and his dreams.

Swallowing hard, he rapped the door. Then he lowered his hand back to his side and stood agitatedly with a thick lump crawling up his throat.

When he glanced around, he saw some boys who were barely clothed smiling and giggling at him from where they stood, leaning over the railing of the corridors. He could not tell if they were laughing at him for sticking out like an ugly sore thumb in a house of perfumes and beauty, or if they were flirting with him, initiating sexual overtures. Either way, they made Adrian even more nervous.

And then he saw the doorknob twist before he heard a click that made his heart beat faster.

He hoped he did not smell like a dead rat. He took a bath and had worn clean clothes. He hoped it was enough.

As the door slowly opened, a dim candlelight poured out of the room. Adrian’s breath snagged at his chest when his eyes landed on the boy holding the door open, clinging softly to the edge of it with his gaze low.

For a length, neither of them said or did anything. They just stood there with only a small gap distancing them. Adrian could not take his eyes off the boy who, in contrast, would not raise his head to look at Adrian even once. Perhaps he did not want to.

Then why was he blushing?

“H-Hello,” Adrian eventually managed to get out in a grating but small voice.

It took the boy a moment to look up. But when he did, Adrian internally swore, telling himself to not to make any sudden movements as the boy’s beautiful eyes met his.

His dainty fingers that were clinging to the door moved to clutch at the hem of his shirt as he lowered his gaze again along with his head. “Hello,” he then said to Adrian in the softest whisper that had the fine hairs on Adrian’s nape sticking up.

Scratching the back of his head, Adrian fumbled for his next words.

“Don’t you… want to… come in?” the boy asked then, beating Adrian to it.

“I… I do,” Adrian muttered with a nervous laughter, which died almost immediately. Then as Jongin drew the door open, Adrian stepped into the room.

He wished that he could shut his goddamn heart up. At the rate it was beating, he was worried that the boy might be able to hear it if he came any closer.

He stopped and turned around as Jongin shut the door. Then as he faced Adrian, he looked away once more. Bashfully.

Silence stretched between them again. Although Adrian wanted to break it already, he could not find the voice. He had been yearning for this exact moment for so long that all of it still refused to sink in. It was surreal.

The boy looked different from yesterday. He was not clad in opulence. His cheeks were not sheening with gold dust. He just looked bare and more beautiful than ever.

He looked up at Adrian again at length. He blinked languidly and opened his mouth to say, “I do not… want to waste your time and money.”

Adrian did not understand what that meant until the boy crossed the room. Approaching Adrian, he began to undo the laces of his shirt.

“No, wait,” Adrian rasped.

Freezing with his fingers entangled in the laces, Jongin lifted his gaze and fixed Adrian with a puzzled look. “What… will you have me do, then?”

There was a slight worry in the boy’s tone. Adrian hated himself for causing such concern.

When he did not respond, the boy closed the distance between them and raised his shaky hands to Adrian’s jacket. Adrian caught Jongin’s wrists to stop him.

They froze together then as Adrian gazed down into the boy’s eyes. Jongin remained still, hands pressed against Adrian’s heaving chest with Adrian’s big, rough hands wrapped around his slim wrists.

Adrian realized that this was their first physical contact.

Releasing the boy’s wrists, he took a step back. Jongin lowered his hands back to his sides and looked away, the tip of his ears growing red.

“I… um…” Adrian began and trailed off for a moment. Then as the boy continued to blush, he gathered the courage to say, “You’ve got a coat?”

Jongin’s widened eyes darted to Adrian. He looked as though he was caught off his guard by the question. Then he cocked his head slightly to a side and said, “I do… but… why?”

“You should go get it,” said Adrian.

Jongin blinked. “Okay,” he then murmured obediently and started for the wardrobe. Pulling a coat out, he faced Adrian again. “What do you… want me to do with it?”

“Well, put it on,” said Adrian, not wanting to sound like he was giving orders. “It’s cold outside.”

That alarmed the boy. “Outside?” he let out with a slight tremor in his voice.

“I hope you are not afraid of the dark,” said Adrian with a smirk.

The boy did not find that reassuring or humorous. He continued to frown. “I… can’t.”

“Why not? Don’t I… get you for the evening?” It sounded filthy even as Adrian said it, but he had to.

Jongin rubbed his arm with a hand and stared at the floor for a moment, biting on his lower lip. Adrian wished that he would stop doing that. It was the single most arousing act he had seen.

“My Madam… will not… allow,” the boy then whispered.

“She does not have to know. We’ll sneak out,” said Adrian. “You will be back before daybreak, I promise.”

Why should the boy believe in Adrian’s promises? They were practically strangers. But Jongin glanced at him with a soft look.

“It is against the rules,” he said. “The bagnio’s business should… occur in the bagnio.”

“Don’t you want to break the rules for once?” asked Adrian. “Besides, I paid for a night with you. You don’t have to do it if _you_ don’t want to.”

The boy did not say a word for a long minute as he chewed on his lip again, hugging the coat to his chest. Adrian understood the boy’s misgivings. No one would just blindly trust a man they had just met to go out with him in the dead of the night.

But then the boy gave a shy nod of his head. “All right,” he breathed out and pulled his coat on.

Grinning, Adrian started for the door.

Jongin hesitated when Adrian prised the door open. “Where are we… going?” the boy asked Adrian.

“You will see,” said Adrian. “We will not be wandering too far away, so don’t worry. You can always come back here whenever you want.”

Sighing, the boy nodded. “Okay.”

* * *

# Chapter Four

Nine o’clock.

 _I must be out of my mind_ , Jongin thought to himself as he followed the taller man along the hallway of the bagnio. Although the Madam had no habit of checking in on her boys when they were with a client, it was highly unlikely that she would not eventually notice Jongin’s absence. Especially if he stepped out of the bagnio at this hour.

But his heart was racing. He did not know if it were due to excitement or fear. Nonetheless, he was doing it. It was not as though he were being dragged out of the bagnio forcefully. He could have refused. But there was something about Adrian that made him feel safe.

He could not remember the last time he had had felt such a rush. Blood was drumming in his ears, growing louder with each step he advanced towards the front doors.

When Adrian glanced back at him one time, Jongin reflexively dropped his gaze as his cheeks grew warmer.

They did not stop until they had stepped out of the doors. Then standing outside with the cold, wintry wind slapping against his cheeks, Jongin gawked up at Adrian, who was beaming like an excited idiot. A handsome idiot, too.

Jongin wrapped his arms around his shivering body and frowned. He should not be doing this.

“When was the last time you stepped out of the brothel?” asked Adrian, plunging his hands into the pockets of his jacket, still grinning wide.

Jongin stared at him wordlessly for a moment. Then shrugging, he said, “It was not that long ago,” he mumbled under his breath. It really was not that long ago. He only went out when the Madam allowed some of them to go out together as a bunch. The last time he went out with the others, they went to see a performance at the opera house. But whenever he went out, the man with the lute would not be there.

Not that Jongin was admitting that he was hoping to meet the man outside.

“Shall we, then?” asked Adrian as he started to cross the street.

Jongin stood still for a stretch, debating with himself if he should go after the man. Sure, Adrian had indeed paid for the night. But he had paid the money to do whatever he wanted to do to Jongin in a bed. Not out on the street.

Curiosity got the best of Jongin, however. So, with a chattering set of teeth, he went after Adrian.

Once he had caught up to Adrian, he looked up at the other man, whose smile was so familiar to Jongin that he would recognize it anywhere. It made him feel at ease oddly enough.

“This way,” said Adrian when they reached the other side of the street. All of the shops were closed. There was not a single soul in sight apart from those that had no shelter.

Jongin stuck close to Adrian when he realized those raggedy men and women in the alleys were snarling at him like wild animals. He bore no valuables with him, thankfully.

When one of them shifted all of a sudden, Jongin jumped and grabbed onto Adrian’s arm with a start and a gasp. Jerking to a stop, Adrian glanced at Jongin, who was gawking fearfully at the homeless man that was glaring at him.

He eventually realized that he was clinging onto Adrian’s arm and released it before taking a step away from the man, blushing feverishly.

Adrian was staring at him, his gaze kind and accommodating. Then with a smile, he said, “It’s all right. He is a friend.”

A friend? Who? The vagrant?

Jongin almost reached out and stopped Adrian when the latter turned toward the vagrant in the alley that was glowering at Jongin.

“Wait,” Jongin began to rasp in a breath. But he cut himself off when Adrian approached the homeless man who was wrapped in rags and newspapers.

“Hey, Miles,” said Adrian cheerily, dropping to a crouch. Jongin was hardly blinking as he rubbernecked at what was happening before him. “Cold?”

“A little,” said the other man. “But what else is new?”

“Why don’t you head over to the poorhouse? The Housemother will give you a warm corner to sleep in.”

“She doesn’t like me there. She says, I steal from the kitchen.”

“Then how about you _don’t_ steal?” Adrian winked and smirked.

Jongin’s heart skipped a beat. It was the kindest, most charming gesture he had ever seen.

And then Adrian removed one of the two scarves he had wrapped around his neck and swathed it around the other man’s shoulders. “Tell her I told you to come by,” he told the vagrant. “It’s too cold tonight.”

“Thanks, Adrian,” said the man.

Rising back to his full height, Adrian walked back to Jongin with a satisfied grin. Jongin gulped and averted his gaze. “You do not have to be so alarmed,” Adrian told him. “People here are not monsters. They are not going to eat you. There is no reason to be afraid.”

“I… I was not afraid,” muttered Jongin embarrassedly.

Adrian chuckled. He… chuckled. It was not to insult Jongin. It just sincerely sounded amused. “Should we get going?”

They continued along the pavements until Adrian led Jongin to the back of the building and onto another street. Right now, Jongin could hear the faint cacophony of music in the air. And on the sole of his feet, he could feel the rhythmic thuds. He wondered what that was all about.

With every step they advanced, the music loudened. It was lively and merry. It did not belong in the dreadful darkness of the winter night.

“What is that?” Jongin asked shyly, trying to keep up with Adrian’s long strides.

“You will see,” said Adrian.

Jongin did not press him for more. But he was curious. They were walking in the direction of the source of the music. It sounded like a celebration. Flutes, drums and lutes. Street music. There was a certain crudeness to it. It made Jongin’s heart leap.

“Have you ever been around this area?” inquired Adrian.

Jongin shook his head. He had no business in this area. This was somewhere the have-nots frequented, he supposed. And wherever he could not be afforded, the Madam advised him not to explore because it would be a waste of time. On top of that, the poor were all ill-mannered and boorish. They did not possess the refinement the elite held.

“It’s wonderful,” remarked Adrian, simpering at Jongin. “Even during the coldest nights, the people here find a reason to celebrate. Colder meant more ale. And more ale meant more reason to roister.”

Jongin had not a single clue of why the man was telling him all this, guiding him through a street at this hour when he had paid to fuck Jongin. He had a hard time figuring Adrian’s angle out. If he even had one.

As the music grew louder, Jongin’s blood began to pump faster. He could see light now. And black, sooty palls of smoke were wafting in the air. It smelled like fire. He then heard singing. Loud, cheerful singing.

He came to a standstill.

“Come,” encouraged Adrian in a comforting tone. “You will like this.”

How would he know what Jongin would like? Before today, they had not even talked to each other.

But Jongin decided to trust the man again regardless, though with some hesitancy. He started walking again toward wherever Adrian was taking him.

There was a crowd of people gathered in the round, wide space between the buildings. Along with the smell of snow, fire and damp firewood, there was the smell of cheap ale.

Women and men cavorted about, arms hooked as the music was played. Others, who were seated on wooden barrels and casks, cheered them on, clapping their hands joyously. Jongin had never seen anything quite like it. The ebullience of it all stunned him. In a surprisingly good way.

When Adrian looked back at him with a toothy grin, Jongin’s chest tightened. He was _so_ handsome. Jongin did not know if the man was even aware of it.

“Wait here a second,” Adrian blurted out before he hurried away from Jongin’s side as he skipped over to one of the men holding the lute. Muttering something into the guy’s ear, he retrieved the lute from the man and held it against his body with one hand while the other promptly began to strum the strings. The flutes and drums were played to the rhythm of Adrian’s lute.

The common people danced to the music, not caring for the coldness of the evening. Adrian did not stop grinning as he played the lute with a kind of enthusiasm that was almost… passionate. Jongin could not stop looking at him.

Adrian’s eyes at some point found Jongin in the crowd. He smiled wider. Jongin’s heart was threatening to fall out of his mouth. He could not hold back the bashful smile that quirked the corners of his lips as he looked away from Adrian, worried that if he kept looking, he might blush to death.

Adrian eventually returned the lute back to its owner and joined the capering people. He caught one of the women’s hand and yanked her toward him. She was happy to give him the dance.

It was then when Jongin realized that he had never danced with someone since he left home. And he had most certainly never danced with a man before.

Once Adrian was done, he gave the woman a kiss on the back of her hand, which seemed more like a mockery of the upper-class’ pretentiousness than anything, before he walked back to Jongin, looking more alive than ever.

Panting slightly, he said, “You are smiling.”

Jongin was. Smiling. But as soon as he realized what he was doing, he stopped. “No… I’m not.”

He did not know what the point of lying was, but he was not going to give Adrian the satisfaction.

“Oh, really?” scoffed Adrian. Then he reached out and took hold of Jongin’s hand. “Do you want to dance?”

Jongin was quick to yank his hand back from Adrian’s gentle grip. He shook his head immediately and said, “No, I don’t.”

A frown furrowed Adrian’s brows. “You don’t want to dance?”

“I don’t want to dance. I don’t… like it.”

God, he wanted to kick himself. He wanted to dance. Like all those people there, who looked so happy and free. It was not as though Jongin was not free. But after giving himself away to so many men in so many ways, he never felt like he could be liberated. He would always be trapped in the truth that he was worthless, no matter how much men were willing to pay for him.

But he wanted to know what it would be like to dance with Adrian. Would they even fit in each other’s arms? Would they be in sync? Sex was not the only way to find that out, Jongin understood then.

“All right,” Adrian said at length, although the disappointment was clear in his expression. He smiled nevertheless. “Let’s go then.”

Jongin stared at him for a moment as Adrian brushed past him and began to walk away from the revelling crowd. Pursuing him, Jongin asked, “Where are we going now?”

“I’m kind of hungry. Aren’t you?”

Jongin could not have possibly heard him right. Perhaps that was an overture? Or a hint? “Hungry?” he decided to ask diffidently.

“Yeah,” let out Adrian, turning around to look at Jongin. “There must be some leftovers at the poorhouse!”

Jongin stopped. And noticing the halt in Jongin’s pace, Adrian stopped, too. “Are you… not going to…” Jongin began in a whisper, voice almost breaking in embarrassment. He had never been so mortified in his life.

Adrian cocked a curious eyebrow.

Jongin licked his lips. “I mean… are you not… going to… fuck me?”

There was no response from Adrian for a while apart from his eyes that bulged out in shock. Jongin did not mean to be so blunt, but he was tired of trying to figure out what the man was up to.

And then Adrian asked, in a very solemn and sober voice, “Do you want me to?”

He was not smiling or anything now.

Jongin could not answer that question. Normally, he would want it to be over with as soon as possible. So, he would comply with whatever his client’s demands were. But he did not know what Adrian’s demands were.

Eventually, Jongin said, “It is… what you… paid for, isn’t it?”

Adrian exhaled heavily then. “I paid for your time. One night.” With that, he turned around and started walking again.

Jongin gazed up at the starless, stygian sky. This was shaping up to be the strangest, most exciting night of his life.

He followed Adrian.

* * *

One night was indeed all that he had. He did not know when he would be able to afford another night like this. It would probably take him two more years. He had to make the most out of tonight. He had to make it count. He had to make it memorable. For the both of them. He had to tell the boy what he had been longing to say to him since the first day he had seen the boy at the bagnio’s window.

The question that Jongin had just asked had rendered Adrian speechless and stunned.

_Are you not going to fuck me?_

Adrian just could not get those words out of his head. And the way the boy had asked him that… God. Adrian never knew that something so salacious and indecent could be conveyed in such an innocent, chaste manner. Jongin had been shy and gentle when he asked Adrian that. Did he even realize what he was doing to Adrian simply by saying such things?

As he walked ahead of the boy, Adrian gave his chest a couple of pats with a hand to calm his clamouring heart.

“Don’t lose control, bud,” he muttered to his heart. It was hard enough as it was to keep his hands to himself after years of not being able to meet the boy he was so pathetically in love with. Jongin was not making it any easier by testing whatever self-restraint Adrian had.

Earlier when he had tried to take hold of the boy’s hand, Jongin had withdrawn as though he was burned by Adrian’s fingers. It had felt like a dagger to the heart.

“Can you slow down?” he heard a soft whimper from behind. Coming to an abrupt halt, Adrian looked back at Jongin, who was hurrying to catch up with him.

“I’m sorry,” murmured Adrian, staring at the way the boy was shivering with his teeth clattering together. “Are you cold?”

Stopping, the boy looked up at him with a scowl that spelled, _what do you think, moron?_

Chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment, Adrian wondered if this was all a good idea after all. Perhaps the boy wanted to do nothing with Adrian but what he was required to do as a rent boy. Nothing more. Perhaps none of this was comfortable for him.

Adrian sighed. “Would you rather… return to the bagnio now?”

Jongin looked at him fixedly for a length. Then in a shaky whisper, he asked, “Me… and you?”

Adrian knew that the boy was doing it unknowingly. Jongin could not have known that the way he spoke, the gentleness in his tone, the grace in the way his plump, quivering lips moved would drive a man toward the edge of his sanity.

As much as Adrian wanted to say yes, he ended up telling Jongin, “No. Just you.”

Jongin pinned him with a very confused look. “But…” He trailed off, turning his gaze away. His eyebrows were knitted with something akin to disappointment. His shoulders shuddered when a wind blew in their way.

Exhaling heavily, Adrian unwrapped the scarf from his neck and held it out to the boy.

For a few moments, all that Jongin did was stare at the scarf that was being held out to him. Then raising his head, he looked at Adrian with florid cheeks. He shook his head slowly. It was the most adorable thing Adrian had seen.

“No?” asked Adrian, still handing the scarf out. “You’re cold.”

“But you will be cold if I take it.”

God, he wished the boy would just plunge a knife into his heart instead. That would be easier. Less painful. Adrian could not help the smile that began to play on his lips.

“I have a thick skin,” he said, smirking. “In case you haven’t noticed.”

With obvious hesitance, the boy lifted a hand and curled his fingers gently around the scarf, as though he were a prey that did not want to alarm his predator by making any sudden movements, as he retrieved the scarf.

Adrian waited and watched while the boy pulled the scarf around his neck. “This is not how you imagined the evening to go, is it?” Adrian asked, as if to make conversation.

The boy only blushed in reply as he followed Adrian at his side. “My name is… Jongin,” he then said after a long while.

Adrian gave his chest another pat to calm his heart. “Jongin,” he echoed. The boy let out a small gasp and looked up at Adrian with wide, glistening eyes. Then he dropped his head again, nuzzling into Adrian’s scarf that was now coiled around his neck.

Adrian wanted to tell the boy that instant—how much he loved him. Not that he thought that he could put his love on a scale of some sort. As much as he wanted to pledge his love to Jongin, he did not want to freak the boy out.

“Are you hungry?” asked Adrian when the silence began to thicken between them.

Much to his surprise, the boy nodded. “A little.”

“Have you not eaten supper yet?”

Jongin looked away sheepishly as he muttered, “I usually can’t when I have a…” He did not finish, but Adrian comprehended what he was trying to say all the same.

“I see,” let out Adrian. “Well, then I hope you like cold pottage and stuffed cabbage.”

Jongin chuckled then. Adrian was taken aback by the sweet, sudden sound. “That rhymed.”

Adrian simply smiled at the boy’s pure, childish sense of humour. “We are almost there.” He pointed to the shoddy building at the end of the street. “We will just go in through the back. The kitchen is closer that way.”

“Do you… live in the poorhouse? I’m sorry if that question offends you.” He frowned. “I am just… curious.”

Adrian did not take offence from that inquiry. In fact, he was more than glad to know that the boy was curious about him. “I used to live there. For a long time. Then I got my own place.”

“Your own place?”

“Oh, it’s nothing fancy. Just a shack.”

Jongin smiled. Oh, lord. The boy _smiled!_ At Adrian! “Still. It is your own place. I have always wanted my own place… away from the bagnio.”

“Why don’t you get one?”

Jongin fell silent for a while. Then sighing, he said, “I’m not allowed to.”

“But didn’t you have a place of your own before? I mean, before you came to the brothel?”

Jongin did not answer. He looked uncomfortable as he kept his eyes low and on the sidewalk they were trudging on. Adrian bit his tongue, realizing that he had said something wrong.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, hoping that his apology would mend things. “I did not want to pry or anything. Like you said… I was curious. About you.”

The boy looked up at him and did not look away for long. Adrian wrapped his hand around the cold trinket in his jacket pocket. Before the night ended, he wanted to give the boy the wristlet. And he hoped dearly that Jongin would accept it.

* * *

# Chapter Five

Ten o’clock.

Jongin did not understand why the man did not tell him his name when Jongin told him his. Perhaps it had slipped his mind. Or perhaps he figured that Jongin already knew his name. Still, Jongin wanted the man to say it. Because then, he would be given the right to call Adrian by his name.

The scarf smelled like Adrian. All musk and snow. Jongin could stop himself from burying his nose into the wool.

They had not said a word to each other since Adrian mentioned the brothel. Jongin was not sure why every time the man reminded him of the fact that he was a rent boy, an onslaught of shame and humiliation silenced him. All these years, he had been proud of how the men worshipped him. He was better than a lot of people. He was beautiful. He was worth golds. But with Adrian, he wanted to forget that he was a prostitute. It was embarrassing. It was almost as though he wanted _Adrian_ to forget that he was a prostitute.

The man did not seem or sound like he was trying to slight Jongin for who he was. In fact, Adrian’s remarks sounded nothing of that sort. Perhaps it was just Jongin who was suddenly bothered by the reality of what he was. A filthy, tainted, unclean whore.

What did Adrian want to do with him if not take him to bed? Why were they roaming around the streets in the night, as though they were old friends catching up?

When they eventually arrived at the poorhouse, Adrian pulled the backdoor open for Jongin.

“Try to be quiet,” Adrian said in a low voice. “Let’s not wake everyone up.” He smiled.

Jongin slinked in through the door and waited for Adrian to follow. As soon as the door was shut behind him, the warmth of the kitchen’s furnace immediately blanketed around him like a cocoon. Jongin let out a sigh of relief and hurried over to the furnace for more heat.

“You!”

He jumped, startled, when he heard a woman yip furiously. Spinning around, he gaped at the woman who stormed into the kitchen with her hands at her hips. She marched straight over to Adrian and reached up to grab the man by the ear.

“Ow, Connie!” rasped Adrian as the woman twisted his ear.

“How many times have I told you not to sneak in through the backdoor! I thought we had another thief!” she chided, though she did not sound entirely angry. Jongin wandered what sort of relationship Adrian had with this old, plump woman who had scraggly grey hair.

“I just got hungry,” sighed Adrian. “Connie … you’re embarrassing me. I brought a… friend.”

She glanced around the kitchen at once before her eyes darted to Jongin. She then slowly released Adrian’s ear and wiped her hands on her apron. “Oh, my. He does not look… like one of your friends.”

“I know,” Adrian mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “He is dressed like the haves.”

“No, that ain’t it. He is pretty. As a pinup.”

Adrian made a face at her. Then shrugging, he said, “Well, I suppose he is… pretty.” He turned to Jongin with that look that made his insides all warm and fuzzy. Or perhaps that was just the furnace he was standing too close to.

“Hello there,” said the woman as she walked over to Jongin. “What is a nice-looking lad like you doing with a brute like him at this ungodly hour of the day, sneaking into houses?”

Jongin looked over her shoulder and blinked at Adrian. “I…”

“We’re hungry, Connie,” said Adrian. “We just swung by for a bite. I was hoping you could scrape up some leftovers for us?”

“Hmm. You could use more than a bite,” she said to Jongin as she raised a hand to Jongin’s face. Though he flinched, he did not pull away when the woman pinched his cheek. “Too skinny. Skinnier than us poor folks.”

Adrian plumped into a wooden chair at the table in the kitchen. “So, can we get something to eat?”

Connie pulled away from Jongin and pinned Adrian with a scowl. “Don’t drag this poor boy around in the cold at night like this,” she said as a mother would chide her own son.

Adrian groaned. “I am not dragging him anywhere.”

 _Well_ , Jongin almost said.

“I will whip you two something up, and then you’re out of here.” As she turned to grab a couple of bowls, Jongin joined Adrian at the table, taking a seat across the man.

Adrian grinned at him. “She sounds tough, but she is nothing but all marshmallow on the inside,” the man said in a soft voice. “Most people around here are like that. We got to have a strong, tough hide to survive in this dog-eat-dog world.”

“I know,” Jongin murmured, lowering his head.

Adrian scoffed. “You do?”

“Does that surprise you?”

Adrian shrugged. “Perhaps. I mean, look at you. All unblemished and glowing. Almost to a fault. Even Connie thinks you’re… pretty. And I’m… a brute.” He looked annoyed as he said it.

Jongin took the scarf and coat off, growing uncomfortably warm. He did not meet Adrian’s gaze for a moment, waiting for the red and heat filling his cheeks to ebb.

“That does not mean I did not have to grow a tough hide to survive,” Jongin muttered at length.

Adrian studied his face then. Extensively. He only looked away when Connie arrived at the table with two bowls of cold corn pottage. “Here,” she spat, placing the bowls on the table along with platter of stuffed cabbage. “Eat and get lost.” She turned to Jongin then. “Not you, dearie. You can stay the night here if you want. It _is_ rather cold out tonight.”

Adrian did not look he was insulted by the partiality as he picked up a spoon and dug into the pottage hungrily.

Jongin smiled at the woman and said, “Thank you.”

On her way out of the kitchen, she gave the back of Adrian’s head a gentle slap. Adrian ignored it.

“If you don’t… mind me asking,” Jongin began but stopped when Adrian handed him a spoon. Accepting it, he placed it in the bowl. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-two,” said Adrian with a full mouth.

He looked charming even as he ate like a savage.

Jongin stirred the pottage for a moment before taking a shy portion into his mouth. Adrian’s eyes flitted up and froze on Jongin’s mouth that was chewing softly. He continued to stare as Jongin licked his lips before wiping them with his fingers.

Then clearing his throat, the man shifted his gaze. “You?” he asked.

Jongin took a moment to answer, making sure that he had swallowed every last bit of the masticated pottage in his mouth before speaking. “How old do you think I must be?”

“I am not fond of playing that game,” said Adrian with a lopsided grin and reached for the stuffed cabbage. Jongin took one himself. As he held it with both hands and took an experimental tiny bite, Adrian stared at him again, watching him like a preying hawk. It was spiced pork and onion wrapped in steamed cabbage leaves. It was tastier than Jongin had expected it to be. So, he took another bite.

When he looked up, Adrian was leering at him with his jaw fallen slack.

“Twenty-three,” Jongin muttered.

Adrian blinked. “Huh?”

“My age,” he clarified. “I’m twenty-three.”

“Oh.” Adrian shook his head and let out a couple of heavy breaths before he returned his attention back to his food. “How do you like the pottage?”

“It’s very good,” Jongin admitted, slurping another spoon of the yellow stew.

“Twenty-three,” mumbled Adrian at one point. “You must have been quite young when you…” He did not finish the thought.

Jongin nodded his head, anyway. “Eighteen.”

Adrian stopped eating for a while, eyes held low. “Why?”

The single-syllabled question rolled off his tongue almost unconsciously.

Jongin owed the man no answers or explanations. Hell, he did not even owe him a conversation. All that he had promised the man for his money was sex. But right now, Jongin was more content than he had ever been in a very long time. And they were just… talking. Two virtual strangers, breaking boundaries and getting to know each other.

“I had… no other choice back then,” Jongin conceded in a very quiet whisper that he wondered if the other man were even able to hear it. He lifted his gaze briefly. Adrian was looking at him, so he dropped his head once more. “My Madam… took me in when I had nowhere to turn to.”

Adrian said nothing.

Jongin was not certain if he should say anything more. Perhaps he should just shut up. No man that wanted to bend him over and fuck him wanted to hear his story. They did not care. But Adrian was… listening.

Swallowing the sob that began to scratch at his throat, Jongin said, “No one… wanted me.”

Adrian scoffed out a breath then, shaking his head. “No one wanted me either.”

Jongin’s heart broke at that. He wordlessly stared at the man for a long while, chest aching in agony. He did not know why that comment hurt so much, even though Adrian’s tone did not seem disparaging.

“But you did not end up a whore like me,” Jongin stated. “Is that what you mean by that?”

Adrian’s mouth fell open. “What?”

Jongin rose from the table. “I should return to the bagnio,” he said weakly, voice breaking. He did not want to cry in front of this man. All this while, he believed that nothing would be more painful than his forthcoming death. But this affront was far worse. It felt like a slap to the face. And the worst part of it all was the fact that none of it was a lie and he had no right to be mad at Adrian. They had no ties whatsoever. They owed each other nothing. Even so, it hurt.

“No, no, no,” Adrian blurted out as he shot up from his seat and leaned over the table before his hand flung up to grab hold of Jongin’s wrist.

Though Jongin stopped, he did not look at the man.

“No, hold on,” Adrian rasped, sounding a little shocked. “That was… not at all what I meant.”

His brutish big hand was clutching at Jongin’s wrist with more strength than necessary. Jongin did not think that it was intentional. But as soon as he realized that he was hurting the boy, Adrian withdrew the hand and released him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, frowning guiltily. “I did not… mean that. I swear. Please. Let me… explain.”

The sincerity in the man’s apologetic eyes held Jongin back from walking out with tears in his eyes. He sank back down in his seat but refused to look at Adrian.

“Listen,” sighed Adrian as he sat down. “You misunderstood me. I would never… mean something so… horrible. I am no one to judge anyone. I do not have that right. I am a nobody. A rabble. I’m sorry… if you think that I said that as an insult.”

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed again. Jongin looked up at him.

“All that I wanted to point out was that… I had also been there. When no one was there for me. To come to think of it, I don’t think I ever had anyone to begin with.” He smiled weakly. “I did not want to hurt your feelings, Jongin. It is the last thing I want to do. Please, believe me.”

Jongin did. He did not know why, but he did believe the man and everything he said. He was told to never rely or trust in the kindness of strangers. But Adrian was an exception. Perhaps it might have been because, in spite of not knowing much about each other, they had formed some sort of bond and familiarity with one another from a distance. And perhaps Jongin had not realized it.

It really was strange and mind-boggling how some bonds and romances could bloom in completely unconventional ways. Was that what this was? A… romance? Perhaps that was what Jongin was unconsciously hoping for?

No, no. he must be out of his mind.

Then why did it hurt so much a moment ago when he had thought that Adrian was judging him for being a rent boy?

“I would never… want to hurt you,” Adrian added at length, his voice cracked and throaty. Jongin had never seen such earnestness in a man’s eyes before. Of course, it was not as though he had been with most honest of men.

Nodding, Jongin hung his head. “I should not have jumped to conclusions,” he said quietly. “I just…” _did not want you to think ill of me_.

Even though that ship had long sailed.

Adrian slid a hand across the table then. Jongin’s breath caught in his throat when Adrian put the hand on top of his. The dried blisters on the man’s palm were rough against the smooth skin of the back of Jongin’s hand. Jongin did not mind it one bit. His fingers were also slender and delicate compared to Adrian’s long, strong digits. The contrast between them both had never been more striking yet charming.

Jongin did not pull his hand away this time, notwithstanding the fact that his heart thundered all the same. He was disappointed when Adrian retrieved his hand to rub his bearded jaw.

“You didn’t finish,” he pointed out. “your story.”

Jongin let out a big breath. “It does not matter. _I_ know how my story ends.”

Adrian stared at him. “No, you don’t.”

Jongin smiled sadly at the man. “Yes, I do.”

“It does not have to be this way,” Adrian then said. “Is this what you… want? The bagnio? For the rest of your life?”

“If it is?”

Adrian paused for a second, eyebrows drawn together. Then he said, “Is there… nothing else that… you want?”

Oh, if only Jongin could tell him all the things he wanted…

But would never get…

So, he shook his head instead. “What about you? What does a simple, penniless street musician like you want?” he asked Adrian.

The man did not answer as his eyes continued to bore into Jongin’s. There was _something_ that Adrian wanted. And he wanted to tell Jongin that. His eyes were longing for it. His lips were threatening to spill all of his desires.

But Adrian ended up looking away.

They both said nothing for some time, letting the quiet hang between them until it became too much to stay silent.

“You should eat up,” Adrian said eventually.

“Are we… going somewhere else after this?” inquired Jongin.

Adrian arched an eyebrow at him. “Do you… want to?”

Jongin blushed. Adrian smiled, taking it as a yes. “How about… your shack?” suggested Jongin.

With ballooned eyes, Adrian coughed a little. “My shack?”

“Is that a bad idea?”

“No, no. I just… don’t think it is a place for someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“Yeah. Someone… pretty, to quote Connie.” He sighed.

Jongin chuckled. “Is there someplace else you would like to take me, then?”

“As a matter of fact… there is.”

He flashed a mischievous grin.

Jongin was intrigued. He wanted the night to never end.

For once in forever, he felt alive. Which was ironic because with each passing second, he was a step closer to death.

But tonight, he was able to forget it all. He could not remember the sound of his own laughter, but he smiled and chuckled tonight. He had broken rules tonight. And most of all, he was falling in love tonight.

* * *

# Chapter Six

Eleven o’clock.

“Have you always wanted to be a musician?” asked Jongin as they wended their way out of the poorhouse through the backdoor again. He realized that it was a question he had wanted to ask the man for quite some time. He wanted to know if music were Adrian’s passion, or if he only did it because it earned him some coins.

Adrian scoffed out a chuckle as though Jongin had told him a joke. “Are you asking me if I’ve always wanted to be a roadside bard?”

Jongin’s cheeks reddened. He fell silent, wrapping the scarf Adrian had lent him around his neck, as he followed the man through an alley.

“Well, to answer your question, no,” Adrian said at length. “In fact, I had no idea what was to become of me when my parents dumped on the street as a child.”

Jongin stared at him unblinkingly. “They… abandoned you?”

Adrian sighed. “Isn’t that the story of us all? We were all abandoned by the people who promised to care for us.”

Jongin could not understand how Adrian could say such things without sounding miserable. He was either very nonchalant about it, or he had gotten used to the grievance of abandonment.

“I suppose,” Jongin murmured under his breath.

Adrian glanced back at him, though he kept walking forward. “Eighteen was young. But not that young. If you ended up at the bagnio, you must have had zero survival instinct.”

“I survived, didn’t I?”

“Hmm. Touché,” snickered Adrian. “But you know what I mean. You probably did not see the savagery and severity of the outside world until you left home.”

He had pegged Jongin almost completely right. Keeping his head low, Jongin looked at Adrian’s hand. It was big and warm when it was holding his hand a moment ago in the poorhouse’s kitchen. Jongin put his hands in his pockets to stop one of them from unconsciously reaching for Adrian’s hand for warmth.

“You are indeed right,” he told Adrian in a shy whisper that was almost muffled by the howling night wind. “But I did not leave home. Not on my own. I was… disowned by my family and told to leave.”

Adrian stopped in his tracks then and faced Jongin. “What?”

Jongin needed to say no more. Because it did not matter whether he did or not. This was something he never told anyone but the Madam. And that was only because she had dragged it out of him.

In spite of that, he looked up into Adrian’s narrowed dark eyes and said, “I had everyone once too. A big, happy family. I had… everything. But… my… family did not like me… for being who I am. For… liking other boys. I was… an abomination.”

He lowered his gaze in embarrassment.

Adrian only stared at him wordlessly for a long moment. Then he took a step toward Jongin. Slightly alarmed, Jongin retreated as the man continued to close the distance between them.

When his back hit the alley’s wall, there was nowhere else for Jongin to go as Adrian advanced dangerously close.

Jongin had been in closer proximity with men. But this somehow made him nervous. His breathing laboured as his throat tightened.

The look in Adrian’s eyes spelled both desolation and yearning.

Jongin’s breaths snagged at his chest when Adrian raised a hand to the wall near Jongin’s head. They stood so close that Jongin could feel the heat of Adrian’s breath on his cheeks.

“That is not right,” Adrian muttered, his voice low and hoarse. “You are… anything but an… abomination. You are… You are… _beautiful_.”

The last of that sentence ended in a breathy whisper that sent a shiver down Jongin’s spine.

“So beautiful that my heart stops whenever you look at me.”

He could not look away from the man’s piercing eyes. Adrian was hardly blinking as he continued to stare Jongin down, nearly menacingly.

Even in the brutal cold, Jongin thought he was beginning to sweat under the layers he was wrapped in. When Adrian finally stopped inching any closer, his face was only centimetres away from Jongin’s.

Parting his lips, Jongin drew in his breaths slowly, steadily, eyes fixated onto Adrian’s that were now drooping low to leer at Jongin’s mouth.

“What… What are you…” Jongin began in a small whimper and cut himself off, unable to say anything more as Adrian leaned in, head tilted slightly at an angle. He felt Adrian’s breaths on his lips.

Their mouths were dangerously close. Jongin fought the urge to clench his eyes and surrender. His heart was galloping like a spooked horse while his blood stirred viciously in the pit of his stomach. He could not recall the last time he had felt this way when a man had come this close to him. Perhaps he never had. Not like this. He had believed that all possibilities of excitement had died along with his innocence a long time ago. But here he was, writhing like a virgin youth, who was furtively aching to be defiled just by a single kiss.

Was that what this was? A kiss?

Was Adrian about to… _kiss_ him?

Jongin’s breathing quickened tenfold at the thought. He knew how to react to a kiss, of course. He had had enough practice to know what to do. But he had never kissed or been kissed by _this_ man. And this man was like no other.

They might have just met a day ago, and they might have shared their first conversation a couple of hours ago. But the bond between them felt very old. Every glance, every smile he had gotten from Adrian over the years was a confession.

Jongin brought a hand to Adrian’s chest then, eyebrows drawing into a frown.

Adrian halted and flinched back when he realized Jongin was pushing him away.

“Please, don’t,” Jongin whispered, hanging his head. The sob that formed in his throat felt solid and thick. He tried to fight it.

Adrian looked at him confusedly for a moment. But instead of pushing, like many of the men Jongin had been with, he backed away. Then scratching the nape of his neck and rubbing his beard, he looked at Jongin with an apologetic frown.

“I’m sorry.”

Jongin said nothing as he collected himself. Then gazing up at the older, taller man, he said, “I just—”

“No, I shouldn’t have,” rasped Adrian, sounding like he might just kick himself. “Let’s just keep… going.”

Jongin’s heart clenched. He did not want to make Adrian feel sorry for what had almost happened. “I think I should head back to the bagnio.”

Adrian turned to him again. For a length, he said nothing. Then heaving a sigh, he bowed his head. “I understand.”

As Jongin began to step back without taking his eyes off the man, Adrian held onto the sight of Jongin, his gaze sheening with demurral and anguish. His hands at the sides were balled into tight fists, as though he were trying to hold himself back from doing something regretful.

Jongin had not wanted the night to end, yes. But he did not think that he could keep this up any longer. Every second he spent with Adrian brought him a step closer to feeling something he did not want to feel anymore. Not when he knew he had nothing to give the man in return. Hell, he did not even know when his show would close. The uncertainty of the life he was barely living now rendered him unable to make any sort of promises to anyone.

He did not need a heartache. And he certainly did not want to give someone else one.

Especially if that someone was a man who was kind, gentle and generous in spite of looking like a brute. He was giving Jongin something no other man had. Hope. And Jongin hated it.

He had learnt that the bravest and easiest way to face one’s demise was by accepting that life offered him nothing other than sorrow.

And Jongin had made his peace with it. He did not Adrian waltzing into his life now and making him feel all these butterflies.

He turned around and paused for a few seconds to draw in a breath. Behind him, he could hear Adrian’s own ragged breathing that was beating against the wintry wind.

Then as he began to walk away with his heart in his mouth, part of him wanted to stop and go back to Adrian, so that he could demand for some answers. For instance, why was Adrian doing all this? It must not have been easy for a poor street musician to gather the money to afford even a small portion of Jongin’s time. So, why was he wasting it all on walking around the streets in the dark of the night, eating stuffed cabbage at a poorhouse and dancing with some sotted rabbles? Was there a point to all of this? Or was he just making a fool out of Jongin?

He kept on walking, not wanting to find out what the answers might be. He figured that it would be better for him that way.

But then he was jerked to a stop.

By the hand that caught his arm in a mighty grip that almost hurt.

Stopping dead in his trail, he stood stock-still for a moment, not daring to even take a breath. Adrian’s hand around his elbow was strong and demanding. Jongin did not imagine that it could also be so rough when it was softly holding his hand a moment ago back at the poorhouse.

“No,” he heard Adrian say through his teeth from behind.

He turned around then to face the bigger man. Adrian did not release his arm. Instead, he drove Jongin up against the wall and held him there. All that Jongin could do in that instant was helplessly gawk at the other man.

His insides burned just as much as every other part of his body.

“I had waited so, so long for this… For you,” said Adrian, almost miserably. His eyes were boring into Jongin’s like they were searching for his soul. “I cannot… let you walk… away like this.”

Letting go of Jongin’s arm then, Adrian raised the hand to cup a side of Jongin’s face. With his lips parted, Jongin panted softly, eyes wide and staring into Adrian’s. His throat felt parched, mouth dry. His hands rose to Adrian’s chest, but instead of pushing him away, they curled around the man’s jacket.

He watched Adrian’s lips slit open as his bowed his head toward Jongin’s.

“I want to… kiss you, Jongin,” Adrian said in a sharp breath that could have cut Jongin’s lips. “I have wanted to kiss you since the day I saw you.”

“A-Adrian,” Jongin let out shakily.

Adrian’s expression shifted with a painful twist, as though Jongin uttering his name for the first time had hurt him. “You… know my name?”

Jongin blushed.

Licking his lips then, Adrian drew his hand to the back of Jongin’s neck. His fingers slid into Jongin’s hair by the nape and loosely tangled themselves in there.

“Can I?” Adrian asked after a long minute of staring at Jongin’s parted mouth. “Kiss you?”

Nobody had ever asked him if they could kiss him. Over the years, he had learnt that kisses did not mean as much as it was fabled to be. Perhaps it would be something beautiful between two lovers. But Jongin had never been loved before. And as far as he knew, he had not loved anyone either. So, for him, kisses were just a part of his profession. Some men liked it, some men told him blatantly that they did not kiss whores on the mouth. Jongin did not mind. He did whatever his clients wanted.

But for the first time, a man was asking him if he could kiss him. Not only was that new, it was also strange to Jongin.

Nevertheless, it tugged at the strings of his heart, making his windpipe tighter than it already was. Adrian awaited an answer, as though he were not going to proceed without one.

At length, Jongin gave a very shaky nod of his head, gaze locked with Adrian’s. He swallowed with difficulty when he saw the gleam in Adrian’s eyes.

The fingers at the back of his head tightened in his hair as Adrian began to lean in. With every inch he advanced, Jongin’s heart thundered harder, pelting against his ribs mercilessly. When their lips were only a hair’s breadth away from one another, Jongin reflexively clenched his eyes while clutching his hands harder at Adrian’s jacket. Unlike the time before when he pushed the man away, he believed that he was pulling Adrian close now.

Just as their lips almost touched, Adrian stopped.

“Do you… want me to… kiss you?” he asked.

This was something beyond requesting consent. It was as though he were making sure that Jongin _desired_ this. He did not want this to be just another kiss. Like with one of Jongin’s clients.

Jongin opened his eyes, though he kept them low, almost lidded. “Y-Yes,” he breathed out, trembling against Adrian. In that moment, as he truthfully admitted that he too wanted to be kissed by Adrian, he wondered just for how long the desire had resided within him. It seemed too compelling to have sprouted out of nowhere in the heat of the moment. Perhaps just like Adrian, he too had been waiting for _so long_.

To feel the warmth of a penniless street musician. The same warmth that the man’s smile and gaze resonated.

His hands unconsciously moved from Adrian’s chest and curled themselves around the man’s powerful bullneck as Adrian steered closer.

Then as Jongin shut his eyes, he felt a set of warm, gentle lips press against his in the slightest brush while the skin surrounding them was scraped almost painfully by Adrian’s beard. Even in that pain, there was a pleasure that Jongin could not explain any more than he could explain the way his heart wanted to jump out of his chest the moment their lips touched.

He felt like a teenage boy with hordes of fantasies again. His heart fluttered, his stomach clenched. And as he realized his knees were about to buckle, he clung harder onto Adrian’s neck and shoulders.

The chastity in Adrian’s kiss harboured almost no lust. In fact, nothing that Adrian had done to him and with him tonight was anything even remotely pertaining to lust. This was… pure.

When he pulled back, he examined Jongin’s face frantically, as though to look for any signs of dismay. Jongin must have given none, because Adrian’s gaze softened once more, and he leaned in for another kiss.

This time, as he pressed their lips together, he kissed Jongin’s upper lip tenderly before moving onto the lower. Jongin yielded and allowed Adrian to taste his lips one by one, savouring them as he sucked on them gently.

Eventually, Jongin began to kiss him back. The kiss was languid, almost lazy. Neither of them rushed it. Instead, they relished it. Softly. Slowly.

Jongin was not sure that he was even breathing. He did not care. He would not mind it if he were to never breathe again. This was how he had imagined a first kiss would feel like when he was nothing but a naïve, daydreaming child. An explosion of emotions. A stabbing pain, an overwhelming ecstasy, a fierce need for more yet a numbing inability to do anything but just stand there and surrender.

It was everything he had pictured it would be. Except that it was happening with a man he never saw it happening with at a time he had least expected it. His arms that were wound around Adrian’s neck began to draw the man down as his mouth deepened the kiss.

When he parted his lips to gasp for some air, Adrian’s tongue slithered into his mouth and pressed against his own tongue, stroking the tip of it. Jongin could not help the weak moan that broke from his throat as Adrian sucked on his lower lip before tugging at it gently between his teeth.

“Jongin,” the man said in a lazy, whispery breath, his hands dropping to latch onto the sides of Jongin’s waist, which Jongin was grateful for as they helped hold him up. Otherwise, he would have dropped to the ground with his knees having turned to water.

Jongin almost begged for Adrian to not to say his name like that again. He did not think that he could bear it. None of his clients had ever said his name. Not like that. Not like they were about to rip their heart out and put it in Jongin’s hands.

The kiss was phenomenal. Adrian’s body that was burning against his snatched away whatever breath Jongin had had left in his lungs. Loosening his grip around the back of the man’s neck, he drew the hands down Adrian’s chest and abdomen. He whimpered against Adrian’s mouth when he felt the rock-hard muscles of the man’s abdomen contract under his touch.

Even though this was not Jongin’s first time being kissed, and not to mention that he had had quite a bit of experience in this field, he felt like an utter novice as he stood there regardless, limp and weak, stunned and tranced. Every time Adrian’s beard would graze his skin, Jongin shuddered and clutched harder at the other man.

By the time Adrian broke the kiss and pulled back, Jongin was completely out of breath as his lips throbbed, all swollen and reddened.

They caught their breath, gasping softly. Jongin did not look up at Adrian immediately as he collected his composure while his face burned like it had been set ablaze.

Withdrawing his hands from Jongin’s hips, Adrian placed them on the wall near Jongin’s head and continued to stare at Jongin’s face as he gathered his breaths.

“Jongin,” he called, sounding nothing like the cheery, sprightly man he was earlier. Both his tone and his gaze were incredibly solemn. “I—”

Jongin shook his head, hands fisting around Adrian’s shirt by the stomach. “Don’t say it,” he blurted out, rasping and panting.

Adrian stopped and blinked at him.

Jongin lowered his eyes in which fresh tears began to well up.

“You do not know… what I was going to say,” said Adrian.

Jongin did. He did. After all those years of just longing for each other for afar, and after that kiss, he knew exactly what Adrian was about to say, and Jongin would not allow him. He did not think that he could go on with whatever little life he had left with that avowal that was bound to crush his soul.

“I do not care,” Jongin murmured, head hung, hands gripping Adrian’s shirt under the jacket. “Please… Don’t tell me.”

When he raised his head to look at the man’s reaction, his heart fell further into his stomach as his eyes met Adrian’s frowning ones. They were full of confusion and grief that Jongin wished that he had never met the man. He never should have stood by the window nearly every morning and evening just so that he could see the man with the lute smile up at him. Even though Jongin had not wanted to admit that before, it was there, as clear as day. Without even knowing it, he had quietly harboured feelings for a man he did not know anything about. Not even his name. That sort of silent yet unequivocal attachment was the deadliest of all. Because if unconveyed, it would die with him and he would have to live the remaining of his days pining in misery. And if uttered, he would have to deal with the consequences of it. That could mean rejection or worse… He would leave a poor man in pain.

“I must go,” Jongin croaked out weakly, feeling choked and slightly suffocated by Adrian’s penetrating gaze. He thought he might swoon and pass out if he kept standing there. He had to go. He had to run away before he could do any more damage.

“Why?” asked Adrian, as though he really did not understand why Jongin had to go away from him now.

Jongin grabbed onto Adrian’s arm and forced it away so that he could free himself from the wall and the man’s crushing body.

As soon as he was free, he hurried away from Adrian before he could break apart in front of the man. The raw, biting night air chilled the warm tears that began to trickle down his cheeks. He shakily wiped the tears from his face and sniffled softly, still gasping for air.

“Jongin,” he heard Adrian call after him in a gentle voice. Jongin did not stop this time. He kept on marching away, holding his heart in his hand. “Will I… see you again?”

Jongin gave him no answer, even though his chest was aching with the yearning to tell the man that he wanted nothing more than for them both to see each other again.

But as he walked away without a reply, he heard Adrian call out his name once more, this time in a lower, gravellier voice that made Jongin’s belly clench.

Part of him wanted Adrian to come after him, so that Jongin would have him to blame for not walking away. But Adrian stood his ground as he forlornly watched Jongin make his way across the street where the bagnio resided.

Even in the harsh cold night, Jongin felt his lips burn. When he was certain that he was out of Adrian’s eyesight, he lifted his fingers to his lips and brushed them gently, reminiscing the warmth of Adrian’s mouth upon them. He had never been kissed so tenderly yet so passionately.

And that was not even what made it all so beautiful. It was the fact that the kiss had been _true._ Truer than anything Jongin had experienced with other men.

* * *

He had walked away. Without an answer.

Adrian had never thought than wordlessness could hurt a man so much that it felt as though a million knives were plunged in his flesh.

He had not tried to stop the boy again, even though every muscle in his body had wanted to.

He slid a hand into his pocket and curled it around the wristlet that was still sitting there, waiting for a wrist to adorn.

“I will see you again, Jongin,” Adrian said to himself, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It was a promise.

* * *

# Chapter Seven

Jongin thought of the kiss for the next few days. In fact, it was all that was on his mind. When men touched him, it did not feel the same anymore. He had never despised it before. But he did now. More often than not, he would lay there as though lifeless, thinking about the night he had wandered through the streets in the dark of the night with a man he barely knew.

He did not have many good memories when he tried to count them. But that night with Adrian certainly counted as one of the best ones. And ironically, it had also brought Jongin a pain like no other.

Part of him was convinced that he had done the right thing by walking away when he had. But a larger part of him wanted to kick himself. For the first time in forever, he had been happy. Unknowingly. From the moment that he had snuck out of the bagnio until the moment when Adrian had stopped kissing him, Jongin had undergone a form of joy he had not experienced before.

After that day, Jongin kept the curtains of his windows closed. At times, when he was overcome by an agonizing hunger to pull those curtains apart and take a look at the man with the lute, he would curl up into a ball on his bed and resist. It was the best for the both of them. Jongin did not think that he could withstand an emotional torture alongside this physical pain.

But he was already hurting, was he not? Adrian had both mended the parts of Jongin that were torn and broken the parts of him that wanted to stay strong. All with just one kiss.

What was it about the man that made Jongin feel such convoluted, inexpressible things? He was the most ordinary man Jongin had ever met. He had no riches, no fancy attires or accent, he was a… nobody.

Just a man with a lute from the street. And yet, Jongin’s heart swelled even at the thought of him. That one evening Adrian had rented truly felt like a dream.

He heard the melody of the lute in the evenings when the world was quiet. A tear or two would trickle down the corners of his eyes if he were not with a client. He would bury his face in the pillow and beg for the pain to stop. He would hold the scarf Adrian had lent him close to his chest.

Then one day, he stepped into the room where a client was awaiting him. Mr. Parker had afforded the grandest room in the bagnio that evening, and he was already undressed. He must be in a hurry. He usually waited until they were in the bed together to get out of his clothes.

Jongin could not feel the soles of his feet as he walked over to the man, who was staring at him with an eager smile.

“Mr. Parker,” he said weakly, his breaths ragged.

“Come,” said the man, patting the bed next to him.

Jongin stopped for a second to shake his spinning head. The thought of spending the rest of the night with Mr. Parker made Jongin queasier. But he braved it nonetheless. He could not afford to let the Madam down.

Joining Mr. Parker on the bed, he closed his eyes and drew a few deep breaths.

“Are you all right?” asked the man, draping an arm over Jongin’s shoulders. “You look… a little pale.”

Oh, Jongin knew he must. He just hoped that he would not pass out in Mr. Parker’s presence. “I’m… fine, sir,” he croaked in a whisper.

“Well, then. Let’s get to it, shall we?”

By the time Mr. Parker was done with him, Jongin felt like he was only an inch away from death. He wobbled his way up to his room where he bathed, cleaned himself up and threw up whatever drink he had consumed a few hours ago. He tried to wash away the putrid acid he tasted on his tongue before swallowing some water. His sore throat did not appreciate the drink. When he looked into the basin a moment later, he grimaced at the blood.

He tried to stand up and take a seat on the bed. But his knees gave in once more, and so did the rest of his body. As his vision tunnelled, he felt his head hit the concrete floor before nothingness claimed him. He knew he was not dead. Not yet. But the darkness was somewhat comforting.

* * *

“What do you look so sullen for?”

Adrian raised his head and looked at Connie with a tired gaze. He sighed and dropped his head once more, idly stirring the carrot soup with the spoon. “Ow!” he yapped when Connie gave him a slap on the back of his head.

“If you don’t got the stomach for that, I know plenty of those who do,” she spat at him, jerking her chin at the bowl of soup that had gone cold since it was served to Adrian.

“Sure,” he murmured and pushed the bowl away.

Connie arched an eyebrow at him. Then after a minute, she plumped on the bench beside Adrian and said, “It is not cute, you know, for a forty-year-old man to sulk like that.”

“I’m not forty.”

“And I’m not your mother. So, don’t come in here with your problems and take your frustration out on the food.”

Heaving a sigh, Adrian rubbed his temples. “It has been… a week.”

“Don’t make me ask _what_ has been a week.”

Connie only pretended like she did not care. She was all about that tough love, but she truly did care for all the orphans and the have-nots. She was one of them after all.

“One week… since I last saw him,” Adrian muttered, eyes vacantly staring at the burning furnace. One week since he had felt alive. One week since he had felt those soft lips upon his.

He always got back up when knocked down. And God, did life love knocking him down…

But this was different. This was difficult. More difficult than anything Adrian had ever had to face or overcome.

This was something that involved his heart and there was only so much a strong mind could do to help a stubborn heart.

“The boy you came in here with the other night?” asked Connie.

Adrian gave a tired nod of his head. Jongin no longer came to stand by the window. And Adrian would not be able to afford another night with the boy. Was that it, then? Jongin did not want to see him again? Had he completely messed it all up?

Of course, he had. Otherwise, why would the boy run away from him like he had been spooked? Why would he keep his windows covered since? And no matter how long Adrian waited, he never showed up.

“I ruined it all, Connie,” he said miserably.

Perhaps he should not have kissed the boy.

He was not even sure what had possessed him in that instant and encouraged him to do such a thing. Perhaps that had offended the boy. But Jongin had kissed him back. Though hesitantly and slowly, he had still kissed Adrian back. But then again, Jongin was a rent boy. He did not get to say no when he was paid for. Was that what it was all about? Was he just tolerating Adrian because the man had paid for him?

Adrian hoped dearly that it was not all that it was. Certainly, Jongin must have felt at least a small fraction of what Adrian had felt.

“Well, are you going to do something about it? Or are you just going to sit here and pout about it?” said Connie.

She had a point. If Adrian had offended Jongin, then he owed the boy an apology. Either way, he still had something to give and say to the boy.

So, he picked up his lute and bade Connie a good evening before wending his way to his usual spot on the street to play the lute.

Jongin did not make an appearance even then. Adrian played for hours until his fingers were blistered from plucking the strings. But the boy stayed silent, hidden away.

“That is a sad one,” remarked B when he walked up to Adrian. All of the shops were closed. The moon was rapidly crawling across the night sky. Adrian felt his heart sink by the second.

Exhaling heavily, he ended his song and placed the lute down on the ground.

“You have never played that one,” said B, adopting a crouch in front of Adrian, setting his box of shoe polishing tools aside. “Are you upset about something?”

He was just a little boy. Adrian doubted that he could share his sorrows with the kid. He would not understand. Adrian wasn’t sure if even he himself understood whatever that he was going through.

“You see that window up there?” said Adrian, pointing to Jongin’s window.

B followed the direction of Adrian’s finger and nodded. “Yeah. The pretty boy always looks this way when you are playing.”

Adrian blinked at the kid. “You… noticed?”

B snorted. “He has been doing that for as long as I have been polishing rich bastards’ shoes on this street. How would I have not noticed?”

Adrian gave the kid’s head a small slap. “Language.”

B rolled his eyes. “So, what’s up with him?”

With a big sigh, Adrian said, “Well, I... think I had somehow offended him.”

“Wait a second,” B rasped. “How could you have offended him from here?”

“No, we…” Adrian trailed off, realizing that he did not want to tell the kid that he had walked into the bagnio and paid his entire life savings to _rent_ the boy for a night. “Well, the thing is… he has not been showing up for a while.”

“And you’re worried about that?” asked B.

Adrian scrubbed his bearded jaw and grumbled. “It’s ridiculous.”

The kid smiled. “No, it is not. I may be a kid, but I’m not an idiot, Adrian. I know the way you look at him from here,” he scoffed and rose back up to his full height. “Why don’t you just walk in there and ask for him?”

Adrian stood up from the cask he was sitting on and pulled the scarf off. He glanced up at the window again. “I can’t. Not without another bag full of coins. But…” He had thought of it before. He just never thought it would come to this. He was a street rabble. He knew how to climb all sorts of walls. And the one the bagnio had on the outside was no challenge. But the basic decency had prevented Adrian previously from climbing into the boy’s window.

Now, he might have no choice.

Well, he did have one choice. He could just leave the boy alone. But when you loved something, was it not right to fight for it? It was a fool’s game after all.

“What are you thinking?” asked B in a quiet voice, as though he were already expecting Adrian to suggest something illicit.

“Help me get those crates,” said Adrian, beckoning at the empty crates in the alley.

“Are you going to break in?”

“I’m just going to say hi,” mumbled Adrian. He could not believe that he had resort to such a thing. But the Madam would never let him see the boy if he did not have the payment for it. And Adrian knew that it would take him a few more years to gather that amount again.

They were right. Those people who said that people did foolish, absurd things for love.

“Keep an eye out for passers-by,” Adrian told B once they had placed the crates in position.

“Aye,” said the kid. “Are we really doing this? This is so exciting. Do I get to whistle to alert you if someone is coming? Or would you rather I make the sound of a cuckoo? Should I knock them out?”

Adrian pinned him with a cocked eyebrow. “No. Get a grip of yourself, kid. We’re climbing into a brothel. Not robbing a castle.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” He held the crates as Adrian climbed onto them.

“You should leave once I’m up there,” said Adrian, grabbing onto the protruding edge of a brick. Then as he slowly shimmied his way toward the pipeline, he looked down at B, who was gawking at him in amusement.

“You’re doing good!” the kid hissed excitedly with his thumbs up.

Rolling his eyes, Adrian climbed the rest of the way up until he reached the ledge of the window. Once he had clambered up onto it, he glanced down at the kid. He then turned to the window. He could stand comfortably on the ledge, but he knew he could not remain there for too long.

He tried yanking the window open, but it did not budge. That did not surprise him. Sighing, he gave the glass a couple of knocks, hoping that the boy would open the window. Of course, Adrian realized this was strange on a whole new level. This was insanity, even he knew that. But yeah, maybe he had gone insane.

 _He is not in,_ Adrian thought to himself when there was no answer. Or perhaps the boy was hesitant. It was not every day he would find a man clinging to the ledge of his window.

But then Adrian peered into the dark room through the slit between the curtains. He could make out a bed and a wardrobe and nothing on the other side of the room. With a disappointed breath, Adrian dropped his forehead against the window. Perhaps the boy was with a client.

Adrian hated himself in that instant for having that bitter taste in his mouth as he sourly entertained the idea of Jongin being with other men. It had not bothered him before. He did not think that it had. Not before he had pinned the boy against the wall of the alley, looked into his lost yet beautiful eyes, and kissed him, claimed those soft, warm lips as his own for a while. And Jongin had let him. He had let a poor, penniless man touch him like that.

It could not all be for money. The way he had pleaded Adrian to not to say whatever that was hanging on the edge of Adrian’s lips… The way he had gasped upon Adrian’s mouth…

When Adrian opened his eyes again, his sight slowly focused on the inanimate figure on the floor. His heart dropped.

Without wasting another moment, he drove an elbow into a glass pane near the latch. He was barely breathing as he hurriedly stuck a hand through to release the latch on the inside.

As soon as it clicked, he shoved the window open and leaped off the windowsill, landing on the floor of the room with a thud.

“Jongin,” Adrian gasped as he rushed to the boy’s limp body on the ground. For a moment, all that Adrian could do was gape at it helplessly, unable to get his limbs to cooperate with him. The thick sob in his throat made it difficult for him to breathe. He had never been in such a situation. His hands were frozen. Even in the dark of the room, he could see how pale the boy was as he lay there unconsciously. Only when Adrian realized that the boy was breathing had he been able to move a muscle.

He was not sure if the boy would be okay with Adrian putting his hands on him. But Adrian was not going to worry too much about that right now. The boy needed help.

As he slid an arm under Jongin’s back and the other under his legs, the boy stirred weakly and let out a soft mumble that stopped Adrian in his spot.

“Jongin?” he called gently, relieved at the sight of Jongin’s eyes cracking open. They were watery when they looked at Adrian. There was not a single hint of curiosity or confusion or even shock. Jongin simply looked Adrian as though he were attending a very familiar dream.

He raised a weak hand to Adrian’s chest and tangled his fingers in the laces of Adrian’s tunic. “You…” was all that he managed to get out before he nuzzled into Adrian’s abdomen.

“Are you all right?” Adrian inquired frantically but received no answer as the boy continued to bury his face into Adrian’s stomach, rubbing his nose against the tunic.

With a grunt then, Adrian lifted the boy from the ground and into his arms. Jongin voiced no objection, though the sudden action made him flinch with a start. He limply clung onto Adrian’s neck as he was borne to the bed.

Settling him down on the bed gently, Adrian straightened up and examined the boy’s pale face, scanning for any sign of pain. “Are you hurting somewhere?” he rasped, cupping one of Jongin’s cheeks. He was not burning up. No fever.

The boy shook his head weakly. Good. So, he could hear Adrian fine.

“I’m going to go get help,” Adrian blurted out and began to pull away, but he stopped when Jongin caught the hand that was holding a side of his face.

“No,” he let out in a fragile whisper, eyes barely open as he leaned into Adrian’s touch, caressing his cheek against Adrian’s callused palm. “Rough,” the boy murmured under his breath, an unconscious remark that made Adrian’s heart skip a beat.

“You do not look so good,” said Adrian. “I will get some help.”

“Please, don’t,” begged the boy with whatever voice that he could find.

Adrian gritted his teeth, unsure of what to do. As much as he wanted to stay here and not pull his hand away from where the boy was holding it, he knew Jongin needed some medical help.

“You were on the floor, unconscious, clutching your chest a moment ago,” said Adrian through his teeth.

“I am… fine,” Jongin mewled out. “My… Madam… can’t know.”

Huffing exasperatedly, Adrian withdrew his hand from the boy’s with a heavy heart. “Why can’t she know?”

Jongin did not answer as he shut his eyes and shifted on the bed so that his back was turned to Adrian.

Most of Adrian was so tired of this silence. Had they not had enough silence between them already?

He saw the boy shiver when the cold wind gushed into the room through the broken glass window. After drawing the curtains close again, he wandered back to the bed to pull the duvet over Jongin’s delicate frame.

The boy was refusing to look at him.

With a heavy sigh, Adrian dropped into a seat on the edge of the bed and hung his head, staring blankly at his blistered palms.

He liked to think of himself as a patient man. He might even be the one of the most patient men there was. But he did not want to be patient any longer. Not when the boy he loved was so close at reach.

“What are you doing here?”

Adrian’s head craned up and turned around to look at Jongin, who still had his back facing him. “I…”

What did he want to say to the boy again? He could not remember. The moment had him fumbling for words.

When Jongin spoke again, the sobriety and wakefulness in his voice tightened Adrian’s chest. “I hope you know that it is a crime to break into someone else’s home.”

“I… I’m… aware.”

“Then you must not care. Of course, the prison would be an upgrade compared to the street for a beggar like you.”

Adrian rose from the bed and stared at the back of the boy’s head with a scowl. “What did you… say?”

Jongin said nothing for a couple of minutes. But his breathing was unsteady. His shoulders were shaking a little. Then in a voice that sounded like it was breaking, he said, “Get out.”

Adrian rubbed his jaw and scratched his beard, his insides twisting and turning painfully. He did not know what to say to that. It was… cold. And unkind. Something he had never expected from Jongin.

“I’m sorry,” he decided to say in the end since he was in the wrong here after all. “I should not have… broken in.”

The boy said nothing.

Drawing a breath, Adrian took a step closer to the bed but stopped, realizing that Jongin really did not want to be in his presence right now.

“I just… wanted to… tell you that I’m sorry. For… everything. I should not have…” He raised a hand to rub the back of his neck, exhaling heavily. “I’ll just… leave.”

But he did not move. If he left, he knew that he would regret it. What did he want then? To tell the boy that he loved him? To tell him that if he would have Adrian, he would be loved and cared for with whatever that Adrian could provide for the rest of their lives together?

What about what Jongin wanted then? Perhaps the boy loved another. Perhaps the boy never wanted anything to do with Adrian, a beggar as he had just pointed out.

Jongin sat up after a while when Adrian did not leave. Clutching the edge of the mattress, the boy kept his head low. “What?” he asked quietly. “You were not satisfied with what you got for your money the other night? Do you want to fuck me after all? Is that why you’re here? Fine then. Get on with it. I do not want to owe no one.”

“Will you stop that?” Adrian growled then, hands balled into fists.

The boy froze for a while before he stood up and turned around to face Adrian at long last with bloodshot eyes. He appeared to be so tired that Adrian’s anger almost dissipated with just one look at his ashen complexion.

“Stop what?” said Jongin with the sort of composure that was akin to exhaustion.

Adrian clenched his jaw. “That. Saying things like… that. I don’t want to…” He choked on the words. Swallowing hard, he tried looking into the boy’s eyes again. “I do not understand if you are playing coy or if you really do not see what is happening.”

Jongin’s expression changed then. He averted his gaze in a panic. “Get out,” he rasped worriedly.

“No. I came here to say something. And I am not going to leave until I do.”

“I don’t want to hear it!” the boy shouted then, looking at Adrian with tears sheening in his eyes. “I don’t have to listen to what you have to say! Leave my side! Leave me alone!”

He started crossing the room at a furious pace. As soon as he reached the other side of the room, his hands flung up to Adrian’s chest. With all his strength, he shoved Adrian back towards the window.

Adrian stumbled a couple of steps before he steadied himself and looked at the boy, who was so close to tears. For a minute, Adrian was puzzled as to what exactly was going on. He could not tell if Jongin were upset or just angry. But why?

“You are a street rat! The dregs of society! No one wants you. You reek of desperation and shit,” the boy spewed at Adrian, like a snake spitting venom. Even though his words were meant to cause Adrian pain, it was Jongin who looked like he was drowning in it. “Get out of here!”

The second time his hands came up to Adrian’s chest to shove him back, Adrian seized his wrists and gripped them ferociously. A small whimper escaped Jongin’s lips before he tried to break free.

“Why are you doing this?” Adrian asked in a whisper, frowning sorrowfully.

Jongin continued to slam his fists against Adrian’s chest before he slowly conceded defeat. As all fight drained from his arms, tears began to roll down his cheeks. He then fell limp against Adrian and broke into a sob.

His warm tears seeped into Adrian’s tunic by the chest as he wept uncontrollably. Not knowing what else to do, Adrian stood very still, almost unbreathing, a trembling hand on the small of the boy’s back.

Jongin did not stop crying for quite a while as his hands gripped Adrian’s tunic at the back. Adrian’s head was a complete blank. He did not know what to make of this situation. All that he realized in that moment was that Jongin was fighting his own battle that Adrian had no idea about. And here he was, making it all about his own feelings for the boy when he should have made sure that the boy wanted him too in the first place.

If he were the reason that Jongin had broken down the way he had, then Adrian would never forgive himself.

When he felt Jongin calm down against him after a while, he withdrew his hand from the boy’s body and let his arms fall to his sides. “If you hate me… that much… and if I caused you this distress,” he said in a low voice, heart screaming in agony as though it had been stabbed repeatedly. “I am very sorry. I promise you… you will never see me again.”

He took hold of Jongin’s shoulders and tore him away.

“You owe this… street rat nothing,” he said, looking into the boy’s watery eyes. Just as he started to turn on his heel, Jongin’s hands flew up to grasp the collar of his tunic. Yanking Adrian down, the boy met Adrian’s lips with his own in a hungry, fiery kiss that snatched Adrian’s breath away.

He grabbed the sides of Jongin’s waist and drew Jongin so close that there was no space left between their bodies. Even though the kiss completely baffled Adrian, he did not pull away from it. He was strong but not that strong.

Jongin’s lips were soft and warm, slightly swollen from all the crying. Adrian swore to himself that he would never let himself forget the way the boy’s lips tasted. And should that day ever come, he would rather be dead.

He raised one of his hands from the boy’s waist to cup the back of Jongin’s head tenderly. Though it was Jongin who had initiated the kiss, it was Adrian who was holding the boy close, mouth lawlessly ravaging Jongin’s lips, which were trying to keep up.

His fingers lightly clutched at Jongin’s silky strands when Jongin moaned out a soft whimper against Adrian’s lips, his body leaning heavily upon Adrian’s. If it were not for Adrian’s hands, the boy might have dropped to his knees.

Jongin eventually drew his mouth down Adrian’s and pressed a kiss to the man’s bearded chin before he dropped his face against the crook of Adrian’s neck and caught his breath, panting laboriously.

“Are… Are you… feeling all right?” Adrian asked, his own head spinning in a daze, breaths caught at his throat.

Jongin shook his head against Adrian’s shoulder. “Why?” he croaked out.

Adrian wondered what that ‘why’ pertained to. “Why?” he echoed.

“Why must it… be this way?” the boy wept quietly.

Adrian could comprehend precisely what was making the boy so emotional. Was it Adrian? Or did it have something to do with why he was lying on the ground a few minutes ago, barely breathing.

“Do you… mean me?” asked Adrian.

Jongin pulled away from him then and sank into a seat on the bed. With his head dropped low, he shed a few tears to the floor. Adrian stepped toward him and fell to his knees.

“You know what I have to say to you, don’t you?” said Adrian. “You’ve known all along.”

Jongin did not respond.

Adrian brought a hand up to cup Jongin’s face. He swiped his thumb a cheek when a tear trickled down it. “You know how I feel,” he added in a whisper. “Am I… so unworthy of your… affection that you… detest me so? Am I really that… worthless?”

Jongin’s desolated gaze lifted to look at Adrian then. There was no hate in them. There never had been hate in them. Adrian knew that only Jongin’s words were meant to cut him. But his eyes were as solemn and kind as they had been the first time Adrian had seen them.

“All this time,” Adrian said. “I only thought about what I want to say to you. I never realized that you might not want to hear it. I am sorry about that.”

“No,” Jongin breathed out then, hanging his head again. “It is I… who is unworthy of anyone’s affection.”

That caught Adrian by surprise. He was tongue-tied for a moment, though his head was swimming in a whirlpool of questions.

Then in a soft tone, he took hold of Jongin’s shaky hand and said, “If that were true, I would not be here right now, would I?”

Jongin looked up at him with a gaze that made Adrian’s throat close. Adrian wished that he could cast away whatever pain the boy was going through.

“You don’t know… anything,” whispered Jongin, tears welling up in his eyes again. “If you did, you would not be here.”

“I know who you are. I know that these words that come out of your mouth are not from your heart. When you ask me to leave, you can never look at my eyes.”

“You know who I am? A whore.” That was meant to sting Adrian, and it did. Eyebrows furrowing into a frown, Adrian stared at the boy. “That is who I am. I sleep with different men almost daily and nightly. I have nothing of mine to give to you. All that I am is for someone else to take for a bit of money. This very time of mine that I am giving you at this moment can be purchased by another man who has the coins. My body is sold to the highest bidder. You—”

“After all that time I spent on the street across, regardless of the scorching midsummer sun or the blistering cold in the winter, just so that I could look at you for a few minutes, do you really believe that it is your _body_ that I am after?” Adrian cut him off. “If you want me to leave you alone, these sharp words of yours would not do it. Just look me in the eye and tell me to leave.”

Though Jongin’s eyes met Adrian’s, the boy could not bring himself to say it. He dropped his head again in anguish.

Then for a long minute, neither of them said anything to each other as they were both lost in their own thoughts. Adrian wanted to tell the boy that this needn’t be so complicated. In fact, it was rather simple. If Adrian held absolutely no place in Jongin’s heart, the fate would have kept them apart. But they were not. They were here, together, mourning in silence with so many unspoken, unconveyed feelings between them.

“I’m… tired,” Jongin murmured at length, his fingers tightening a little around Adrian’s.

“Why do you not want the Madam to know that you are not feeling well?” asked Adrian.

Jongin gnawed at his lower lip, looking away. “She will not let me work if she knew.”

With his teeth clenched, Adrian said, “Must you… work, feeling like this?”

Jongin did not answer. But there was something running in his mind that had his face paling.

Sighing, he then said, “Maybe you should lie down.”

Jongin remained still for a moment. Then sucking in a deep breath, he reclined on the bed and turned to his side. His gaze rose with Adrian as the latter stood up.

Something was wrong, and Adrian could not figure out what. Words failed him yet again when he tried to relieve the boy of his misgivings. He turned around. And he stopped once more when Jongin grabbed hold of his hand.

His fingers were so slender and delicate in Adrian’s contrastingly big, rough ones.

“Stay,” the boy said in a whisper. It sounded more like a plea than an order.

Adrian sat down on the bed and slouched forward. He did not move even as the boy fell asleep. Something very ominous floated around them. Adrian planted his face in his hands and huffed quietly. He then glanced at Jongin. The boy was sleeping soundly, though his breathing was quite unsteady and laboured. The little skin that was exposed by his shirt at the waist was distracting. Adrian looked away again. It was not nice to ogle a sleeping person.

He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out the glinting wristlet. Perhaps he should just toss this gimcrack, worthless piece of jewellery out. All of this felt like a wild goose chase. And he did not want to cause the boy any distress.

* * *

# Chapter Eight

One could count the number of hours they had both spent together thus far, even though the times they had longed for each other totalled to a count of years. One could also count the number of hours they had left together.

Jongin opened his eyes to a dark room and the defined figure of a large man sitting on the edge of his bed. Shoulders slumped, head hung, the man looked like someone who had lost all hope.

Why would he want Jongin? Why would he waste all these years, waiting to be with someone he knew he could not be with? Would he still want Jongin if he knew that Jongin’s time in this world was coming to an end?

Jongin propped himself up on his elbows and watched the man more closely. He did not know what time it was, but the man looked like he had been sitting there for long. The night was at its darkest.

Hesitantly, Jongin brought a hand to Adrian’s back.

He felt the man shudder when his fingers brushed Adrian’s sharp shoulder blade.

Adrian did not turn his head around to look at Jongin immediately.

“I’m dying,” Jongin said. Even though it had been nothing but a mere whisper, his voice still sounded deafening against the silence of the room, save the gentle howl of the wind that was gliding in through the broken window.

He let his hand drop from Adrian’s back, eyes blinking and squinting to see if there were any reaction from the other man. Adrian gave none as he continued to sit there, as still as the surface of a frozen lake.

Jongin sat up and lowered his head. He did not know how much time they had left. Weeks? Days? Hours? God, all the time they had wasted just because Jongin had been afraid…

“I… did,” Jongin began to say after a moment. “want to dance that night… when you took my hand.”

It was such an odd confession to make in that moment. But Jongin could not help himself anymore. He wanted to gush. He wanted to spill everything. All of his wants and desires. All of his grievances.

“I had never… danced with another man before,” he added bashfully. “So, I had panicked. Everything about you… makes me nervous.”

Another unnecessary confession.

But the next one was important.

“I could not… let this go any further. I did not want to look at my feelings… for you because… I knew that… none of it would last long for me.”

Adrian brought a hand to his jaw. He lightly rubbed his beard. Jongin wished that the man would look at him now.

Then in a voice that almost broke, Adrian said, “Please…”

He shut his eyes and drew a breath.

“I’m ill… Adrian,” Jongin whispered, kneeling up on the bed. “I’m very ill.” His eyes stung with fresh tears. “Every day, I take a step closer to my end… And I do not want to drag anyone along with me. You of all.”

“No,” Adrian let out.

Jongin moved closer to the man and took hold of his shoulder, so that he could force Adrian to look up at him.

Adrian’s eyes were red when they found Jongin’s. Not even the dark could hide the despair in them.

“Some days, I can’t take the pain,” said Jongin as he shifted his weight on the bed to straddle Adrian. Planting his knees at Adrian’s sides, he buried his fingers in the man’s hair. “And I want it all to end. I can’t… afford to… want to live anymore. I don’t want to be given the reason to have the desire. And you…”

He bowed his head until the tip of their noses brushed, and his warm breath was caressing Adrian’s lips.

“You must go,” Jongin murmured, lips brushing Adrian’s. A rivulet of his tear dropped on Adrian’s cheek and seeped into his beard as he pressed his hands to the sides of the man’s head. “I cannot… give you… what you want.”

He could not take what he wanted either. It would not be fair. But then again, life had never been fair to him.

“This cannot be… true,” Adrian let out with difficulty, as though a lump of air was caught in his windpipe. He closed his eyes.

Jongin ran his fingers down the man’s beard and curled them around his neck. “You do not have to go down with me,” he muttered, drawing his other hand along Adrian’s chest. Pinning it against his beating heart, Jongin let out a shaky breath. “You owe me nothing. A free man owes a prostitute nothing.”

“Stop it, please,” Adrian rasped in a choked sob, hands gripping Jongin’s thighs, his eyes still clenched. “The only way you are going to be able to hurt me any more than you already have is by ripping my heart out.”

Jongin panted a little, tears rolling down his face unchecked. “I did not want to… hurt you,” he exhaled, trembling like a falling leaf. “I just… I can’t have you.”

“But do _you_ want me?” Adrian asked, eyes flashing open. Jongin took note of the tears in them. “A penniless… street musician?”

Jongin could hardly bear the crippling heartache. He wanted to tell Adrian that he did. After so long, he desired something. And he knew that he should not. “I can’t.”

“And if I told you that I want you?” asked Adrian.

 _Take me, take me, please_ , Jongin wanted to cry out until his lungs hurt. It was then when he realized that he had never wanted a man to hold him as much as he did now in that very moment.

It was true that, in spite of having unconsciously longed for the man for a very long time, he had only been with Adrian for a handful of hours. And in just that short amount of time, he knew that he could trust Adrian with his heart and his body. Or perhaps Jongin believed what he wanted to believe at this point.

“But you cannot… have me either,” said Jongin, their lips only a hair’s breadth away. “Not for long. Not forever. And I do not know if it would even be a day or two. Nothing about my fate is certain anymore.”

“You do not know that,” growled Adrian. “I never had a purpose in life,” he said, hands sliding up to the corners of Jongin’s waist. He held them gently, as though if he gripped them any harder, he was worried that he might break Jongin. “Now, I feel like I do… I will take any… minute I have with you. Every second that I get to look at your eyes… is something I will never take for granted. Jongin, I—”

Jongin did not let the man continue as he pressed their lips together. He did not want to hear it. He did not think that he could bear it if he heard what Adrian was struggling to tell him.

“Will you,” he gasped against Adrian’s mouth, breaking the kiss momentarily. “hold me… tonight?”

Adrian caught hold of Jongin’s face, hands clasped to the sides, and leaned in to brush his lips against the tears streaking one of Jongin’s cheeks, his beard pricking the skin, leaving it red and hot.

“Jongin,” he breathed, planting another kiss on Jongin’s eye, kissing away the tears from the eyelashes. “I want to… I want to…”

And Jongin wanted him to never let go. He sucked in a sharp breath as Adrian slid his hands to the back, yanking him close. “Adrian,” he panted, putting his arms around the other man’s broad shoulders.

Along with a moan, he clutched at Adrian’s hair when his neck was pelted with fiery hot kisses, rough beard scraping the sensitive skin there. A fire was set alight in the deepest pit of his stomach and his loins. And the fire grew with every kiss that Adrian planted on his neck. Throwing his head back, Jongin arched his neck and bared it to Adrian like a prey succumbing to its predator.

A coarse whimper broke from the throat Adrian kissed, his lips latched around the Adam’s apple. Jongin had never reacted this way to having his neck kissed. It opened the gates to a form of pleasure like no other. His heartbeat quickened as his breathing laboured rapidly.

Then wrapping his arms around Jongin’s shivering body, Adrian picked him up and laid him down on the bed before he claimed Jongin’s mouth. Gasping, Jongin parted his lips when Adrian licked along his bottom lip.

Adrian groaned out Jongin’s name once more as his tongue slithered into Jongin’s mouth.

It was new. The way Adrian took his time to savour and memorize the taste of Jongin’s mouth. No man had kissed Jongin so passionately. It was all about business before. But this… This grabbed Jongin by the throat and punched him in the gut, and the same time, it wrapped him in a cocooned of softness that he never wanted to leave.

Jongin let Adrian take as much time as he needed kissing him. And Adrian did not pull away until he was satisfied with the kiss, until he had Jongin’s lips swollen and throbbing in a mild, welcome pain.

He then gazed into Jongin’s eyes worriedly. Jongin was so used to seeing joy and calmness in those eyes as the man played his lute. Now, those eyes were fraught with dread and heartbrokenness. It was almost unbelievable that there was someone in this world who would feel so strongly for a prostitute like Jongin.

Jongin ran his hand along Adrian’s cheek gently and blinked at the man languidly.

“Are you… sure you want this?” asked Adrian, even though every muscle in his body clearly craved it. His hands that were gripping Jongin’s sides were only a struggle away from tearing Jongin’s clothes off.

“Is this… hurting you?” Jongin murmured, lips grazing a corner of Adrian’s jaw.

“Everything about you… hurts me,” Adrian admitted. Jongin’s heart broke a little at that.

This was exactly what he had been trying to prevent. But there was only so much he could do to push Adrian away when the man was so persistent.

“But I will not have it any other way,” added Adrian after a couple of seconds, pressing his face to a side of Jongin’s neck. “Because… you also bring me the sort of happiness no one ever has.”

Jongin buried his face in Adrian’s shoulder and broke into tears. “Adrian,” he wept softly, legs curling around Adrian’s strong thighs.

Bringing his head up, Adrian held a side of Jongin’s face and tenderly stroked his cheekbone with a thumb before drawing the thumb to Jongin’s lips. “I don’t want this… _us_ to end before it has even begun.”

Was that not the sad truth…

Their story was ending at the first chapter. The story of how a poor man, who had nothing to his name and a boy, who sold his body to different men until there was nothing left of it, pined for one another for so long before fate allowed them to meet.

Adrian took hold of Jongin’s chin and lifted his face gently before kissing Jongin’s mouth. As he pressed himself between Jongin’s legs, the heat between their bodies made it difficult for either of them to breathe.

Every time Adrian’s hand would wander to an unexplored part of Jongin’s body, he would pause to look at Jongin, seeking a tacit permission. It felt both odd and good for Jongin to give the man a small nod of his head as consent because no one had _asked_ if they could touch him before. Once the money was paid, Jongin’s body belonged to them for the hours paid. When Adrian hesitated to put his hands on Jongin’s thighs, something warm and fuzzy filled Jongin’s chest. His breath hitched as Adrian slipped a hand into Jongin’s shirt, his rough fingers stroking a side of Jongin’s waist tentatively.

“Okay?” asked Adrian, still sounding like he was choking on a sob.

Jongin responded by kissing the man with everything he had. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered upon Adrian’s lips. He was not sure if he were apologizing for causing Adrian this pain or for letting it all get this far, in spite of his efforts to stop it, to drive Adrian away.

“What… do you… want me to…” Adrian stammered to the end of that sentence only to trail off weakly.

“How do you want me?” asked Jongin, trying not to tremble too much at Adrian’s hand that was pressed against his belly under the shirt. Adrian’s breathing sharpened and shallowed at the question.

“Jongin,” he said, almost groaning. He then straightened up and began to yank his jacket off. Tossing it over to the ground, he knelt between Jongin’s legs and took a moment to take in the sight laid out before him. Jongin curled his bottom lip between his teeth and sucked on it lightly, cheeks filling with hot blood.

Adrian then peeled the tunic off and discarded it as well.

Jongin almost could not get himself to look. He had never blushed so hard before. Perhaps the first time he had been with a man, but he no longer remembered what it was like.

Adrian’s body was packed with taut muscles, dusted with dark hairs all over his solid, toned chest. As Jongin drew his gaze down the man’s well-muscled body, his throat turned so dry that it almost hurt to swallow his saliva. His eyes then followed the thin stream of hairs that trailed from Adrian’s navel and disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers. God, Jongin had never wanted to feel another man’s bare body against his own as much as he did in that very moment as he sat up and brought his hands to the sides of Adrian’s torso.

He lifted his eyes to lock them onto Adrian’s as he leaned forward to press a kiss to the man’s abdomen, kissing the rock-hard muscle there. He exhaled shakily when Adrian caught his hair and drew his head up. Then bowing low, Adrian caught Jongin’s lips between his own. He strayed from the lips momentarily to kiss Jongin on his cheeks and forehead. It was one of the softest yet passionate gesture of affection Jongin had experienced in years. His heart fluttered, and his stomach hurt. In the best way possible.

Adrian then placed a kiss on Jongin’s eyes before he returned his undivided attention to Jongin’s lips. Meanwhile, Jongin drew his fingers along Adrian’s prominent waistlines and the wake of hairs before hooking them around the laces of Adrian’s pants. He undid them without fumbling at all, his mouth focused on kissing the man back, his lungs struggling for some air. Even though he had been in similar situation countless times, _desiring_ it was new. It made him nervous. His fingers trembled a little when Adrian caught hold of his wrists and gently pulled them away from his trousers. Then coaxing Jongin to recline again, Adrian leaned down and kissed him, snaking an arm under Jongin and grappling it around his waist. As he yanked Jongin up, the latter enveloped his legs around Adrian and gasped into the man’s mouth when their crotches pressed into one another. Upon the contact, Adrian did not hold back as he began to thrust his hips forward, almost reflexively, to grind his cock between Jongin’s thighs. And the friction caused by the thick fabric of their trousers made Jongin’s eyes roll back and Adrian let out a guttural groan.

Then grabbing one of Jongin’s arm, Adrian pinned it to the mattress and picked up the pace of his thrusts. Even though their skins were barely touching with all the clothes between them, the heat of Adrian’s body still drove Jongin toward the edge of his sanity. It was nothing like Jongin had encountered before.

Men never took their time. Not like this. They had one intention, and they got down to work without bothering about what Jongin wanted. Of course, Jongin had no such prerogative being a sex worker. Still, it was different and nice to finally be held by a man who wanted _him_. Not just what he could offer.

The sharp pain in Jongin’s chest stung, and he helplessly grabbed onto Adrian, fingernails digging into the skin on the man’s back. Adrian drew his mouth down to kiss Jongin’s neck as his cock hardened in his trousers, humping against Jongin’s hipbone.

“Jongin,” Adrian let out in a moan, mouth latched around a curve of Jongin’s neck where the neck met the shoulder.

His teeth were close to breaking Jongin’s skin there when they sank into the flesh. Jongin’s breath came out rough and hard as Adrian’s mouth bruised a spot on his neck, leaving it deliciously throbbing.

Then bringing his head up, Adrian gazed into Jongin’s eyes. When he leaned down and caressed Jongin’s cheek with his own, Jongin bucked his hips up and ground himself against Adrian, moaning as the man’s beard scraped his face. He loved every bit of it. Especially Adrian’s ruggedness, his hardness. He was not like the well-groomed, rich, stilted men Jongin had been with. Everything about Adrian was rough on the edges.

“Please, let me know if I am… hurting you,” Adrian said with that concerned look of his.

Jongin was hurting. He had been hurting for quite some time. But of all the things he had gone through, this pained him the most. Still, it was the one pain he welcomed. With all his heart. And for the first time in forever, his heart was full.

As Adrian knelt back up and hooked his fingers around the hem of Jongin’s shirt, Jongin let the man strip him off it. Now mostly bared, he wanted to feel Adrian’s skin upon his own. But before he could draw Adrian back down, the man proceeded to untie the laces of Jongin’s trousers.

Jongin was not sure when the last time he had blushed was, but he could not help his crimsoning cheeks as Adrian bared him completely. His face and several other parts of his body burned even hotter when Adrian hurled the clothes to the floor before he stopped for a moment to rake Jongin’s naked body with his eyes, his hands gliding along Jongin’s thighs.

Then retrieving one of those hands, he tugged his pants low enough to take hold of his thick, swollen cock. The veins on the shaft pulsated as he wrapped his hand around it, giving it a few strokes.

Jongin pushed himself upright then and onto his knees. As he brushed his fingers down Adrian’s haired chest and abdominal muscles, the other man caught the back of his head and smashed their mouths together.

Jongin whimpered out Adrian’s name into the kiss as he curled his hand around Adrian’s that was gripping his cock. With their fingers interlaced, they stroked Adrian’s hardened length. He could feel Adrian’s lips tremble upon his every time his thumb would skim along the slit on the cockhead.

Then pulling away from the kiss, Jongin stopped to look into Adrian’s eyes for a moment as they fought for breath together. He drew his hands all over the front of Adrian’s torso, unable to keep them to himself. He had never wanted to feel another man’s body on his own before.

Adrian held Jongin’s head with a hand as Jongin placed a kiss on the other man’s sternum. Bending low, he kissed along Adrian’s abdomen before nuzzled into the hairs at the base of the cock. Then taking the shaft into a fist, he bowed his head and parted his lips, brushing them against the tip of the erection. Gripping Jongin’s hair, Adrian let out a groan as Jongin’s tongue darted out and licked all over the cockhead. When the tip of his tongue prodded against the leaking slit, Adrian threw his head behind, eyes rolling back.

“Jongin,” he moaned as Jongin sank in, taking the cock into his warm mouth as far as he could. Hollowing his cheeks, he sucked the hardened member and gagged a little when the cock slammed against the back of his throat.

As he pulled back, smearing the length with his saliva, Adrian tugged at Jongin’s hair, drawing his face up so that he could kiss Jongin sloppily on the mouth. When Jongin took him back into his mouth, Adrian dragged a hand along Jongin’s arched back. Retrieving it for a moment, the man spat onto his fingers before bringing them to Jongin’s tailbone. As his finger slipped down the cleft, Adrian stroked Jongin’s opening, teasing it a little with the tip of his fingers.

Then grappling an arm around Jongin’s waist, Adrian laid him back down on the bed and gently coaxed Jongin to turn around, so that he was now lying on his stomach.

Although he was nervous, Jongin knew that he could trust Adrian. In fact, he had not trusted a man as much as he trusted Adrian with his body.

A moan broke from his lips when Adrian rested his chest against Jongin’s back and pressed his lips to the nape of Jongin’s neck, peppering it with tickling kisses.

Jongin bit into the pillow as Adrian slithered down on him, dragging his lips along Jongin’s spine, leaving a trail of wet, soft kisses behind. When he reached the tailbone, Jongin felt Adrian’s tongue swipe along it before it slid even lower. He gasped and moaned as Adrian’s beard grazed the cleft of his ass while his tongue lapped the rim of muscles.

He was completely out of breath by the time Adrian was done. And he wanted more. He turned to lie on his back once more before Adrian bent down to pelt the soft planes of belly with scorching kisses. Then with each kiss, Adrian slid lower until his mouth was dangerously close to Jongin’s shaft.

Stopping for a second, Adrian raised his head to look up at Jongin, who was dazed and jaded, and quite honestly, excited. Then he took Jongin into his mouth, wrapping his lips around Jongin’s length.

Jongin caught Adrian’s thick mane between his fingers and panted in moans and tears as Adrian sucked him. Clients never cared about Jongin’s pleasure. But Adrian wanted to taste every corner of Jongin’s body, every inch of his skin.

“You don’t… have to,” Jongin wheezed, fingers carding through Adrian’s hair.

Pulling back, Adrian took hold of Jongin’s cock in one hand as he drew his tongue along the underside of the length that had a shiver surging down Jongin’s spine.

“I want all of you,” said Adrian, placing another kiss on Jongin’s navel before he straightened up and grabbed the canister oil that was sitting on the bedside table. Spilling a generous amount of oil onto his palm, Adrian coated his fingers with it.

“Don’t,” Jongin rasped when Adrian brushed the puckered opening with his oiled fingers. “I want you… inside me.”

“But—”

“I will be fine,” Jongin reassured him.

Admitting it, however, brought him a wave of embarrassment. He had never been embarrassed admitting that he was a prostitute. But with Adrian, it devastated him. While Adrian believed that he was the one who was unworthy of Jongin’s affection, in reality, it was Jongin would did not deserve the affection of any man.

Nevertheless, as he was counting his days, he did not want to fight his longing anymore. Whether he deserved it or not, he was too exhausted to refuse it. So, maybe for this one night, which he undoubtedly owed Adrian after having walked away the other night, he would let himself be loved.

Licking his lips, Adrian wrapped the hand around his cock and stroked it, slathering on the oil until it was thoroughly lubricated while Jongin watched him with his heart in his mouth. In the heat of the moment, everything tightened Jongin’s throat, as though someone had it locked in a grip. The thin sheen of sweat on Adrian’s body, the few stray strands of hair that fell over Adrian’s eyes, the powerfully veined hand that was stroking himself.

Most of all, Jongin wanted to be as close and intimate as he possibly could with Adrian in the time that he had left with the man. He owed Adrian nothing, but he wanted Adrian to own him that night.

Without taking his trousers off, Adrian knelt up between Jongin’s legs again and brushed the tip of his cock against Jongin’s opening.

“Adrian,” Jongin whimpered, begging Adrian to not to tease him any longer.

With his lower lip caught between his teeth and a hand pressed to Jongin’s belly as though to hold him down, Adrian leaned a little forward and nudged the cockhead into the orifice, stretching it open.

Jongin let out a moan, back arching off the bed, grabbing onto Adrian’s arm. “Oh… God,” he breathed out, eyes watering as Adrian entered him, slowly and carefully. Even though Jongin was no virgin in this arena, it still surprised him just how thick and long Adrian was. His breath hitched as Adrian pushed himself all the way in.

Adrian caught Jongin’s hands that were gripping at his arms and held them against the mattress on either side of Jongin’s head. He paused to let Jongin calm down and get used to it. And while he waited, barely with any patience, he kissed Jongin breathlessly, hands clutching at Jongin’s wrists.

Then as though he had suddenly realized that his brutal grip might be hurting Jongin, Adrian eased his hands around the boy’s arms and moved them to hold Jongin’s waist and thigh.

“I’m sorry,” he exhaled against Jongin’s neck, kissing it. The apology brought Jongin an odd sense of happiness. No one had ever issued an apology for simply holding him more harshly than realized.

With his now freed hands, Jongin grabbed the sides of Adrian’s head and drew it up to kiss the man all over his face and mouth.

“Can I… move now?” Adrian asked in a whisper, panting lightly.

“Please,” Jongin gasped as he wrapped his legs loosely around Adrian’s waist. “I want you to. Please… Adrian.”

With his eyes boring into Jongin’s eyes, Adrian slowly pulled out of him and bowed his head to kiss Jongin full on the mouth. Then as he slid back in, Jongin brought his hands to Adrian’s shoulder blades and sank his teeth into Adrian’s shoulder.

His insides stretched open as Adrian pulled out and slid back in repeatedly in a slow pace at first. Then as he picked up the pace of his thrusts, Jongin could hardly hold back his moans and cries. Beads of tears trickled from the corners of his eyes.

Adrian paused his thrusts to smash his lips against Jongin’s nipple.

“Ah… Adrian,” Jongin moaned, chanting Adrian’s name like a prayer as the warm tongue swirled around his pebbling nipple. Then claiming Jongin’s lips again, he slammed back into Jongin, his cock hardening with every stroke.

Jongin struggled to stay silent. He did not need his Madam walking in on him while he was with Adrian in the bed. Even though he doubted that it would even matter anymore.

What mattered was this moment he and Adrian cherished together. Neither knew that their fates would intertwine in such a cruel way.

Jongin let himself be loved for the first and last time. And it was so beautiful.

Adrian made sure that Jongin would reach his climax before himself. When he finally did, he held Jongin as though he never wanted to let go and came undone in Jongin’s arms, completely out of breath, body bathed in sweat.

Though they were both ready to collapse into an endless sleep, they shared a tired kiss as Jongin pleaded breathlessly for Adrian to stay inside him for a moment longer. He was not ready to feel hollow again.

* * *

# Epilogue

It was one of Jongin’s firsts. Waking up in the warm embrace of a man who had made love to him all night long. It was the first chapter of their love that was now ending. As Jongin’s eyes fluttered open to the subtle darkness of the winter’s dawn, he found himself nested in Adrian’s strong arms. He had drifted off dreading that it might have all been another one of his pleasant dreams about the man with the lute. But rousing to the man’s warmth that had him blanketed against the cold, he felt tears stinging his eyes.

Last night was surreal, but Jongin had never felt anything realer. It was the realest thing that had happened to him. He had once wished for something like this. He did not think that he would ever get it, that he would ever have it all in his hands, though for a very brief period of time. It had been real, and he had been given the love he had yearned for.

Jongin raised his head from where it was resting on top of Adrian’s chest. Adrian was still sound asleep, soft snores rumbling from his throat. Jongin wished that this would last forever, even though he knew he was not in a position to want anything anymore.

Bringing a hand to gently cup a side of Adrian’s face, careful not to wake the man up, he leaned in and brushed a light kiss on his bearded cheek.

“Thank you,” he said in a very quiet whisper, lips still grazing the prickly hairs. A ‘thank you’ would not suffice for what Adrian had given him. He drew his hand down the man’s chest and splayed his fingers on it. As Adrian’s heart beat rhythmically against his palm, Jongin clenched his eyes and bit back on a sob. Perhaps it was better this way. Perhaps it was better that their story ended on the first chapter. This way, Adrian would not hurt for too long.

And Jongin did not have to hurt for any longer either. He knew his end. He did not want to string out the inevitability much more than he already had. The pain would now grieve two of them.

Jongin slowly freed himself from Adrian’s arms and rose from the bed to pull his shirt on. Without bothering to put on his trousers, he quietly rummaged through the bedside drawer. As his hand found the vial, he withdrew it from the drawer and examined the dark, viscous liquid it contained. His throat closed as his stomach turned to knots.

His aching heart formed new tears in his eyes. He really had thought that he would be able to do it with a brave heart. But when the time had finally come, his knees were about to give in as fear overtook his body and spirit. He had never cared about what might await him after life. Perhaps he did not care about what awaited him. Perhaps it was more about what he was leaving behind.

He glanced at Adrian. His heart sank even deeper. He had to do this. The sooner he was out of this man’s life, the better it would be. It would hurt them both less.

He moved closer to the window, avoiding the glass shards on the floor. Drawing the curtains open, he gazed down at the street where he could find Adrian every morning and evening. He wished that he had danced with Adrian that night. God, he wished he had been brave enough.

He thought of the first time he had seen Adrian. He had been quite young back then. He remembered thinking that the man was wasting his talents on the street. And he remembered thinking that Adrian had such a nice smile. When the man looked up at the bagnio window, he missed a couple of notes as his fingers fumbled against the strings of his lute, his eyes blinking as though they were bewildered, meeting Jongin’s gaze. Jongin had his own share of astonishment, too. He had drawn the curtains close immediately and leaned against a wall, panting for no reason.

Back then, he never knew that he would fall in love with the man. A penniless street musician who had nothing but only his love to offer. And Jongin, although he once believed that he had nothing to offer the man he loved, still had one part of his body that was untouched and chaste to give away. His heart. The last of him that was untainted by other men.

He wished that at least in another life, he would be given a chance to love freely.

Uncorking the vial, he swallowed the lump in his throat with difficulty, staring at the poison, chest full of dread and horror.

With a tear trickling down his cheek, he lifted the vial.

He stopped when a hand seized his wrist. He looked up at Adrian, who was staring down at him with his eyebrows furrowed into a confused frown.

Jongin closed his eyes momentarily as more tears streamed down his cheeks. “I must,” he breathed out in a raspy whisper, voice cracking.

Adrian would not understand. No one would. Not until they had lost all hope and want nothing but the pain to end. Not until they did not want to wake up to another day full of agony. It was not the answer to many, but it was the answer to Jongin’s misery. It had always been. He no longer wanted to wait until his body was rotten and wasted, until there was nothing left of it for his life to absent itself from it.

He wanted it to end on this note. He was happy in spite of the fear. Adrian had achieved something Jongin never thought he could in the brevity of life fate had offered him.

“Please… don’t stop me,” Jongin pleaded with whatever breath he had left.

Eventually, he felt Adrian’s hand loosen around his arm. Then for a long moment, Adrian did nothing but stare at him, his eyes vacant, his face ashen.

“I cannot… stand the pain,” said Jongin, hanging his head. “Don’t stop me.”

“And if you go,” Adrian then spoke, releasing Jongin’s arm altogether. “you will take the biggest part of me, Jongin. I…”

He cut himself off and let his hands drop to his sides. Jongin brought the vial to his lips. Then in one swift movement, Adrian prised the vial out of his hand.

What happened next had Jongin’s heart thundering, and it felt as though all air had been knocked out of him as Adrian poured the content of the vial into his own mouth.

“Adrian, please don’t—” Jongin gasped but he was silenced by Adrian’s lips that crashed against his own.

Jongin yielded once again without a fight as Adrian kissed him, parting the lips with his tongue. The bitter liquid was warm as it slipped into Jongin’s mouth. He swallowed it, his mouth still pressed against Adrian’s.

He also tasted salt on their lips as they continued to kiss, the torturous tang of the poison stinging the insides of their mouths. He was not sure if the salt came from his own tears or Adrian’s.

Dropping the vial to the ground, Adrian collected Jongin’s delicate body in his arms and pulled him close, kissing him slowly and tenderly.

Why would he do that? Jongin had no fight left in him to do anything but give in. Why would Adrian do such a thing? He could not control the tears that continued to stream down his face.

Adrian was not letting him speak or protest. His arms around Jongin’s body tightened like a snake coiling around its prey. His mouth continued to silence Jongin’s.

When Jongin grabbed Adrian’s shoulders, Adrian only held him tighter, refusing to let him go. Soon, as the taste of the poison faded from his tongue, the taste of Adrian’s mouth took over. Jongin wept helplessly, Adrian’s unforeseen action overwhelming him.

By the time Adrian released him, Jongin’s knees almost buckled. He clung onto the man’s arms and buried his face against Adrian’s unclothed chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Why?” he cried quietly, his head beginning to spin.

Adrian held him, arms wound around Jongin’s waist. “Will you hear me now?”

Jongin lifted his head and looked at Adrian, eyes blurred by his tears. Adrian’s own eyes were falling heavy.

He then stuck a hand into the pocket of his unlaced trousers. Jongin choked on something painful in his throat. His insides were starting to burn, but it was not unbearable. Not yet. The man who had sold him the poison had said that after an initial discomfort, he would be lulled into a deep, painless sleep.

Adrian withdrew a chain from the pocket. It was dull with almost no glimmer to it. But without a doubt, it was some kind of jewellery. Why was Adrian carrying it around with him?

“I got this,” he croaked out, his own tears making it difficult for him to speak. “For you.”

Just when Jongin thought that the situation could not get any more sorrowful for him, Adrian held the wristlet out in his palm, waiting for Jongin to accept it.

“It’s probably worthless compared to… everything you must have been offered,” said Adrian, a tear betraying his eyes. “But it’s what I can do.”

Jongin threw his arms around the man’s shoulders and hugged him as tightly as he could, sobbing even harder. “Why are you… doing this?” he whimpered, clutching at the back of Adrian’s neck. His heart felt as though it might explode. That was how overwhelmed he was.

“Because…”

Jongin was not going to stop him this time.

But Adrian did not say anything more, his breathing growing more erratic with each breath. Perhaps he was right to think that he would never hear those words uttered to him in his short lifetime.

He pulled back and eyed the wristlet, wiping his cheeks. He gave a shaky nod of his head, pressing a hand to the sternum of Adrian’s chest, beckoning to Adrian to put the wristlet on.

A rather faltering smile formed on Adrian’s lips, a contrast to his usual smile Jongin was so used to that was filled with composure and aplomb.

“Adrian,” Jongin mewled out as Adrian fastened the thin chain around his wrist. He drew Jongin’s hand from his chest to press a kiss to the palm. Then taking hold of the hand, Adrian led Jongin back to the bed, where they lay for the next few minutes.

Jongin cried against Adrian’s chest until he could no longer muster the energy to do anything but breathe. Slowly, he began to fall asleep. He did not want to. But as his sight began to give in, he nestled closer against Adrian.

“Jongin,” he heard Adrian drawl in a drowsy voice. Jongin could not respond. He felt his breaths die little by little. He felt the pace of Adrian’s heartbeat grow slower by the second.

The sun was coming up. But it was setting on their time.

“I… love you,” Adrian said. Jongin heard it as a distant echo. Even so, whatever life he had left in his heart made it clench. He wished that he could open his eyes and tell Adrian that he loved him too.

He tried to, but he could not. He hoped that Adrian knew.

_I love you, Adrian…_

He drifted off first, still struggling to answer Adrian with those three words. Adrian’s arms were loosening around him, but he could still hear the sound of the man’s unsteady breathing. It was a solace, a lullaby almost.

As he strayed into an abyss of nothingness, he remembered the melody of a lute that had made him look out the window that fateful day.

He remembered Adrian’s smile.

And the very last thing he would remember would be Adrian’s lips upon his last breath as the man gave him one last kiss before the darkness claimed him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and leaving comments and kudos! <3


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